Injection Burn

by Jason M. Hough

  Gently—very gently—he traced his finger along the surface, searching for anything he could grab hold of. But the surface was smooth and unbroken. Curved slightly, he thought. Like the inside of a ball or the bottom of some basin. And it was indeed moving away, thanks to his probing fingers. Alex made good on his promise and pushed at it before it became too distant. He felt the cold air stir around him as his body moved away. He counted the seconds, reaching six before he thudded against another wall, feetfirst this time. He let his legs compress with the impact so as to not spring himself back into the open cavity of the room, and probed again. This time he gave himself a little, gentle push to one side, trailing his fingers as he went. It was a sphere, he concluded. The wall kept bumping into him.

  Gradually, he managed to put himself into a kind of jerky orbit around the inside of the ball. Colliding, pushing again, essentially hopping around in a rough circle. All the while he traced his fingertips along the surface. As best he could, at any rate.

  He couldn’t say how many circuits he’d made when his nearly numb fingers finally found something other than a smooth surface. It wasn’t much. The barest hint of a groove, perhaps a millimeter wide and deep. He tried to stop himself there and failed. Cursing in frustration, Alex continued his orbit, working to slow himself. He breathed on his hands as he went, in a weak attempt to warm some feeling back into them. When the groove next met his fingers he’d all but stopped already. Even with chewed fingernails and shaking hands he somehow managed to stop himself there and hold on. He felt himself bob away and back with each breath and inhalation.

  Carefully he pulled himself along the groove. It formed a circle on the inside of the sphere, perhaps a meter in diameter. Probably how he’d gotten in here. A section that could be removed so that a subject could be dropped in and studied or whatever.

  A section that could be removed. A door! He clung to that thought. There had to be a way, how else would he have gotten in here?

  Was this the test? Did she want him to try to escape? Figure out the puzzle? It didn’t matter, he realized. Even if viewed as an escape attempt, something no doubt punishable, Alex Warthen would be damned if he just sat in here like a stubborn child and waited for her to return. He was a man who got things done. A man of action. He had to try. The other option was insanity, and he hadn’t quite resigned himself to that yet.

  He clung there, feeling the roughly meter-wide path of solid surface, but there was nothing. No handle, no latch. Just that slim, almost imperceptible groove. He had only one choice. He rested his bare feet against the hatch. Then he pushed off, in what he hoped was a straight line, hands extended above him. He counted. Two seconds plus a bit to the other side. His hands met wall and he pushed back. Another two and a half seconds. He pushed again with his feet, counting. Four times he oscillated between the two sides of the ball. His breathing became labored. His stomach growled. Alex wondered how thin he’d become, how much muscle he’d lost since his captivity began. On the fifth shot back across the room he kicked with both legs as hard as he could just before the 2.5-second mark. Impact. Bone-jarring, like spikes through his shins. He felt it in his knees before the soles of his feet finally blossomed with pain. Something had budged. The question was had it been the hatch, or his own body?

  The savage kick had sent him tumbling randomly across the room. It took several minutes to work his way back to the thin groove. He probed its border again and felt his heart grow heavy. Nothing had changed. The hatch had not budged. His fingers continued around from the sides to the bottom and…wait. It was shallower here, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be sure. He probed farther, to the other side, what he mentally thought of as the top, and found it deeper. Yes, he was sure of it. It was as if the hatch had angled slightly, pushing in on one end and out on the other. Just a fraction of a millimeter difference, but a difference all the same. Alex repeated his elaborate oscillation, back and forth across the room, and kicked again. And again. And again. After four kicks he thought he could hear a hiss of air, like a punctured tire. That tiny sound filled him with a determination like he’d never felt before.

  On the seventeenth effort, hands shaking from hunger, mind a cloud of pain and exhaustion, feet no doubt leaving bloody footprints on the wall, the circular hatch shot outward like a champagne cork, Alex Warthen sucked through right behind it.

  He was free.

  —

  He’d thought the air inside the sphere cold, but it was nothing compared with this.

  Frozen air hit him like a mallet. Alex curled into a ball instinctively. His shoulder smacked against something hard. His body tumbled again, but no longer constrained by a mere ball he drifted for a time, bouncing off irregular surfaces, until finally he came to rest in a corner where three flat surfaces met. He huddled there, shivering, wondering why the space outside his cell was pitch-black as well. And not only that, but cold enough to store meat in. That thought unsettled him and he pushed it aside.

  “Larsen,” he moaned, voice cracking. “Larsen!?”

  Utter silence met his shouts. Impossible silence, in fact. Alex tried to still himself a moment and strained his ears. Nothing. No machinery, no hum of air processors. He was on the alien ship still, he felt sure of that, only now robbed of all the sound he’d been hearing before waking up inside that sphere. The vibrations of life support. Perhaps the thrust of engines, too. All of it had gone. And the lights were out.

  A sudden calm came over him. He’d experienced something like this before. Many times in fact, in his former capacity as head of security at Gateway Station. Emergency drills, simulated incidents of total power loss, or an errant climber strike. And instantly he could see the folly of those training sessions. Every time, his staff and crew would produce their handy dandy flashlights the moment the darkness came. And of course, even without any power at all, the ship would have battery-driven LEDs mounted everywhere. Guide lights along the hallways, markers above key junctions. Whoever had designed this place clearly had little regard for a safe work environment.

  Was it power loss? Was the ship damaged?

  A shudder ran through him at the idea that he escaped from his spherical cell only to find himself in a sealed, dead tomb. His teeth clattered together. His sense of calm all but vanished. Focus, he told himself. One thing at a time. Alex pushed himself along one of the walls, chosen at random. He kept one arm above his head and his speed as low as he could. He found his sphere a few seconds later, and the gap where the hatch had been. Beyond he found another sphere, evidently identical, still sealed. He found its hatch and felt across the surface. Something was there. A handle, though not made for human hands. Still, he managed to twist it and, when he heard air escaping, stopped until the pressure had equalized. It would do no good to be shot across the room and pulverized against the far wall.

  “Larsen?” he asked when the hatch came free.

  “Here,” a wrecked voice said. Groggy and weak, and not just from the thin, frigid air, Alex thought. This was the voice of a broken man.

  Alex worked his way inside and, holding the lip of the open hatch with one hand, extended his body into the space. “Find my leg or arm and grab hold.”

  “What’s going on?” Jared asked with the bleary voice of someone just woken from a deep slumber, or even a coma. “My head…Can’t think…”

  “The goddamn ship lost power or something. We’re getting out of here.”

  “The others? Grillo?”

  “No idea. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Flames. Pain.”

  “And now? Are you hurt?”

  There was a pause. Alex could hear the man moving about inside the sphere. He waited. “My head…nnngh…What is happening to us? Another test?”

  Alex considered that. This seemed far from a sensory deprivation test. “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve decided I don’t care. It’s a chance and I’m going to take it. Are you with me or not?”

  Fingers brushed Alex’s foot. A scramble follow
ed, and then Jared’s hands clasped around Alex’s calf. “With you,” Jared Larsen said.

  The Wildflower

  6.AUG.3911 (Earth Actual)

  “THE ENGINE IS beyond repair,” Beth had said.

  Gloria studied her displays intently, hoping against hope the Scipio fleet would call off their pursuit. Thanks to the efforts of the Sporting Chance, a vast hole had been opened in the blockade, but that didn’t matter if she couldn’t work up the velocity to take advantage of it. As of now, adrift, the Wildflower would be intercepted in six hours. Horror stories of what the enemy did when they found an intact Earth ship crept into her mind. She shuddered, and pushed the images away. Only as a last resort.

  “Thank you, Beth,” she managed, unable to impart the strength in her voice she knew would be sorely needed just now. “However impossible it seems, this is the time for creative thinking. I’ll listen to any idea, no matter how crazy, that will help us outrun the Swarm. That goes for both of you.”

  Neither Beth nor Xavi said anything. Gloria adjusted herself in the chair, settling in for the long ride, unable to do anything but wait and ponder ways to destroy the ship. An odd and terrible thing to have to consider, knowing it would mean not only her death but her crew’s as well. She wondered if she would even tell them, if the time came to initiate a catastrophe. Would it be better to have it come on suddenly? A painless, quick end? Or to tell them, and go through the emotions of making their peace with the Universe?

  Hours passed, and with each tick of the clock the Swarm closed in. Their flock behavior was remarkable. Flawless, really. Gloria and her fellow captains had spent countless hours trying to think of ways to exploit the group-movement of the Scipio ships, but the problem always came back to one of nature. These were not machines acting on some program. They were, somewhere inside those spiny hulls, alive. Highly trained, yes, but still just ever-so-slightly unpredictable and eminently adaptable. Impossible to simulate.

  Out here, with their legion numbers in pursuit, what gnawed at Gloria’s gut was the belief that she would not find a way out of this. She would not suddenly think of some ruse or maneuver that all the other captains before her had somehow failed to conceive. There would be no aha moment—

  “Aha!” Xavi said.

  Several seconds passed before Gloria could break from her mental abyss to make a reply. “Please tell me you have an idea.”

  “Nope. But there is something on the long range.”

  A tickle danced across her scalp. One of the fleet, returned to get them? She willed calm. “Be more specific, please, I don’t need the drama. Friend or foe?”

  “No drama, boss, and I’m not sure. Just a blob to be honest. Oblong. About a klick in length, a fifth of that in width. Doppler has it inbound on the Scipios’ system at a pretty good clip. High red shift. But steady. Whatever it is, it’s not under thrust.”

  A hunk of ice, more than likely. Some rock, tugged in by the star. “A comet, probably,” she said.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

  He sent her a text message on her screen, so that Beth wouldn’t see or hear it. COULD COLLIDE WITH IT. I KNOW YOU’RE THINKING HOW TO END THIS.

  STILL THINKING HOW TO GET AWAY, BUT THANKS, NOTED, she sent back. “What’s the Swarm sending toward it?”

  “Hmm. Nothing.”

  Gloria blinked. “What?”

  “Not a damn fucking thing. Totally ignoring it.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “Maybe not a comet, then. Something of theirs?”

  She drummed her fingers on the armrest, her gaze now laser focused on the same radar display Xavi used. The object was very far off, and moving at an angle. Another hauler like the one they’d jumped in on top of? Possible. The size was pretty close, but the shape…it could be some model they’d never seen before. Still, the Wildflower could put it at significant risk. If it turned out to be a rock, perhaps it could be deflected. Made an obstacle. If they could reach it in time. “Inbound to where, specifically?”

  “Working on a trajectory. One sec.”

  Beth’s voice came through the comm. Gloria had almost forgotten her. “Weird,” the engineer said.

  “What is it?” Gloria asked. “This is no time to hold back.”

  Her reply came groggily, aftereffects of the heavy stim during that initial burn, and the one that had counteracted it. “Looking at it on the scope. It’s like nothing I’ve seen before. The spectral bands are…well, weird.”

  “Is it a rock, or a ship?”

  “According to the database,” she said, “it’s a mushroom.”

  Gloria blinked. “A mushroom.”

  “Ascomycota. Like, um, a cave fungus. Not exactly, but that’s the closest match.”

  “A cave mushroom. The size of a large building. Floating dead in space. That’s what you’re telling me?”

  “That’s what the scope is telling me, Captain. I’m just relaying it. Whatever it is, it looks like life. Inert, frozen solid, life.”

  “Okay, I agree, that is weird.” It was the only word that seemed appropriate. She weighed her options. Which took no time at all as there were no goddamn options. “Beth, I appreciate your thoughts, but what I really need is your gut estimate on the engines? How screwed are we?”

  “Very,” she replied. “We’re not going to get engine two back, Captain.”

  “What about the other?”

  “The damage isn’t as bad as I first thought. I’m still evaluating, but—”

  “Gut feel, Beth. Please.”

  A pause. “I might be able to give you limited thrust…soon.”

  “Define soon.”

  “Twenty minutes?”

  Gloria mulled that over and found herself nodding. “That’s not bad, actually. Nice work. Xavi?”

  “Boss?”

  “As soon as we have thrust, change course. I never thought I’d say this, but…take us to that mushroom.”

  —

  Xavi’s head poked up through the central shaft, and he cleared his throat. She turned in her seat to see him. He rested his arms over the lip and studied her. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”

  Gloria lowered her voice, and made sure the comm was off. “I’m not sure what I’m planning yet, but it won’t matter unless we change course now, before it’s beyond our reach.”

  “If you want to slam into the thing, just say so, boss. No need to beat about it.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she said pointedly. “Perhaps we can use it.”

  “Use it? How? Eat some and go on a rippin’ psychedelic walkabout?”

  “Xavi—”

  “Organic matter or not, it’s about as useful as a hat full of assholes.”

  “Matter. Exactly.”

  “Not following you, mate.”

  “It’s got mass, it’s inbound. If we can nudge it toward one of their factories, or even Carthage, they’ll have to shift tactics. Address it. Waste time.”

  He studied her, dubious. “They’ll just nuke it. They could peel off one swarmer to handle that without so much as a hiccup.”

  “Look,” she said, more anger in her voice than she’d wanted, “there’s nothing else out here, right? No other option. So it’s pretty simple. We can do nothing, or we can do something. I’d rather do something, even if it’s folly.”

  For a time he just stared at her. Then, finally, he gave a single nod. “As long as you recognize this for what it is.”

  “I do.”

  “Promise me, though. If you decide we’re going to ram it, you tell me soon enough to get up the velocity. I don’t want to survive that. I don’t even want to feel it.”

  “I promise.”

  His features hardened. “Right.” He went back to his chair, one deck below.

  Five minutes later engine one roared to life, and the Wildflower changed course.

  —

  “It looks like a seed,” Xavi said. “Gigantic, yeah, but a seed…” He trailed off, wond
er in his voice.

  “I’d hate to see the plant that grows from it,” Gloria noted.

  They were gathered around her screens, for the company more than anything. The Wildflower had been under thrust for four hours straight, bending the arc of her path through space to intercept the object. Radar showed the Swarm had the same idea, converging on the target like wolves streaming from the edge of a wood to intercept their prey.

  Beth pointed to another readout off to the side. “Scans show some empty cavities within, and heavier portions, too, but it’s all vague, obscured by that outer surface.”

  “And there’s no radiation at all?” Gloria asked. “Not even trace elements?”

  “That’s what I wanted to show you.” Beth leaned in and adjusted the main screen until it showed the now-familiar spectral band view of the object, false color layered over the dark brownish-gray visual.

  Only, something had changed. Gloria leaned in, squinting. At first sighting they’d had a side view of the object. Then, gradually, the perspective had shifted to a three-quarters rear view as they’d swung in behind it. And now, as the Wildflower closed in, the view was directly from behind.

  Beth magnified the image. She pointed at a small spot tucked in the deep shadows of the object’s slightly irregular tail. A smudge, really, slightly brighter in the infrared than the surrounding surface.

  “What am I looking at, Beth?”

  “Graphene,” she said, satisfied. “Granted, not much graphene, but enough. And maybe I’m just anthropomorphizing, but it looks like it’s deliberately hidden. You’d never see that unless you were directly behind this thing. It’s tucked deep in a fold of the, er, skin.”

  “But what is it?” Gloria asked.

  The woman shrugged. “Let’s go find out.”

  “The entire fucking Swarm is bearing down on us,” Xavi said, incredulous, “and you want to stop and take readings?”