The Lost Sword

by Huw Powell

  “Perhaps, but it still feels weird to be treated like an outsider.” Jake rubbed his neck, wishing he had worn a hat. He felt hot and irritable in the midday sun.

  “You had better get used to it,” said Kella. “Not many people like space pirates.”

  Kella was in a bad mood. Jake knew that she was missing her parents and she was worried about her sister. He wondered if it was the right moment to tell her about Jeyne. How would she react?

  Nanoo fanned himself with his large hands. “It shame cyber-monks take your handheld computer. What so special about files?”

  “No idea,” said Jake. “As far as I know, the brothers on Remota never discovered anything exciting. Father Benedict has promised to return the device once he’s removed any notes.”

  Kella wiped her brow. “How do people live in this heat?”

  “I guess they don’t go out much.” Jake glanced up at the huge red sun. “Let’s get back to the ship, before we start to cook out here.”

  The three of them cut across the crater to the Dark Horse on the opposite side. Its new paint job had been reduced to streaks of red by the acid shower. Jake hadn’t realized how big the crater was or how far they had walked. His tired feet scuffed on sharp rocks as they trudged across the dusty surface. He wondered how long they would be stuck on this dreadful planet.

  “Why does everything have to be so hard?” he grumbled. “All I want to do is find my dad and lead a normal life. Is that too much to ask? I’m fed up with running and hiding while he’s out there somewhere, waiting for me.”

  “Maybe he hear about you on Interstellar News and he get in touch,” said Nanoo cheerfully.

  “Yeah, maybe.” Jake forced himself to smile, but a voice in the back of his head kept repeating the same question over and over: What if you never find him?

  “I keep thinking about Jeyne,” said Kella. “If only we knew where they were keeping her. We could rescue her, like Wild Joe Jagger and the Ranko prison break.”

  Jake peered into her hopeful eyes and knew it was time to tell her the truth. “I’m sorry, but we can’t help her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your sister has been transferred to Ur-Hal.”

  “What?” Kella looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “Callidus told me that Jeyne has been transferred from a prison moon in the sixth solar system to Ur-Hal.”

  Kella stopped walking. “When did he tell you that?”

  “Does it matter?” said Jake. “I thought you had a right to know.”

  “Ur-Hal?” Kella’s eyes searched the air for answers. “But that’s a maximum-security prison planet. Why would they take her there?”

  “According to Callidus, she was helping some United Worlds citizens to rebel against the Interstellar Government.”

  “Garbish!” snapped Kella. “My sister isn’t a . . . I mean, she wouldn’t . . . Jeyne, a rebel?”

  “Perhaps she’s tired of the lies and greed,” said Jake. “And who could blame her? How many politicians have been bribed by the Galactic Trade Corporation? It’s just a pity that she was caught before her friends could take down the Interstellar Government.”

  “But Ur-Hal?” Kella staggered backward, holding her head and swaying in the heat. “You promised to help me find her.”

  “I know.”

  “You hear stories . . . only the most dangerous criminals are sent there . . . I’ll never see her again.”

  Nanoo reached out and caught Kella as she stumbled on some rocks. Kella collapsed in his long arms, overwhelmed by the heat and the news.

  “Come on,” said Jake, wrapping one of her arms around his shoulder, while Nanoo took the other. “Let’s get her back to the ship.”

  Chapter 5

  Trouble in the Seventh Solar System

  “You can’t hang around here all day, Jakey-boy,” said Scargus, prodding the contents of the hammock with his hammer.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need to fix this old space tub, and your miserable face is putting me off my work.”

  Jake grunted. He had been skulking in the cluttered engine room since returning to the Dark Horse. His skin prickled with heat rash and he had a pounding headache. Kella was resting in her room while Nanoo watched over her. This was not a problem for Nanoo, because his people, the Novu, slept only once every three days.

  “Here you go,” said Manik, holding out a steaming cup. “I made you some pirate tea.”

  Jake sat up and accepted the drink. “Thanks.”

  No one brewed tea like Manik. It had been Manik who had taught Jake how to make pirate tea using two teabags, three sugars, and powdered milk in a gravity-proof cup. That seemed like a lifetime ago, before the black hole, before Altus, before his father’s voice.

  “Do you think I’ll ever find my dad?” he asked.

  “You underestimate yourself,” said Scargus, raising his bushy gray eyebrows, which looked like two tiny rain clouds. “If anyone can find Andras Cutler, it’s the teenage boy who located Altus and defeated his uncle.”

  “I guess so,” sighed Jake, but it felt as though they were searching for a pin in a star cluster.

  “Good,” said Scargus. “Now, cheer up and give me a hand.”

  Jake reluctantly slid off the hammock onto the engine-room floor. He wasn’t in the mood to recalibrate the rear shields, but it would help to take his mind off his father.

  “How are the repairs going?” he asked.

  “Not bad, not bad,” said Scargus, slipping the hammer into his tool belt. “But it’ll be a while until we can afford another paint job.”

  “How are we paying for all the new parts?” asked Jake. “I thought that we had no money for food, let alone anything else.”

  “We’re as broke as cyber-monks, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  “Does that mean we’re stealing the parts?”

  “When have we had a chance to steal anything? Apart from the supplies we took off the naval gunship, we’ve been too busy running and hiding to do any proper spacejacking.” Scargus took off his glasses and wiped them on his crumpled cargo trousers. “If you must know, the captain has sold her collection of fine dresses.”

  “Her what?”

  Jake had never seen Granny Leatherhead wear a skirt, let alone a fine dress. It seemed odd to imagine her in anything other than a combat suit.

  “Lizzy might not wear dresses in space,” said Scargus, “but she’ll need something more respectable than pirate clothes when she retires.”

  “And she’s sold them?”

  “Aye, at the trading station,” Scargus said. “But I wouldn’t mention it to her,” said Manik. “It took the captain years to collect those dresses.”

  No wonder Granny Leatherhead looked so cranky. Jake owed her and the crew a lot of crystals. How would he ever earn enough to pay them back without returning to Altus?

  “Listen, Jake,” said Scargus. “Your mind is clearly not on shield recalibration. Why don’t you pop up to the dining area and fetch yourself some of that cyber-monk stew.”

  Jake nodded and left the engine room, still clutching his pirate tea. He decided to check on Kella, but as he approached the guest quarters, she emerged from her room with Nanoo.

  “Hey, Jake,” said Nanoo, his skin now dark lilac from the Shan-Ti sun. “You not look good.”

  “Thanks, mate. You look pretty bad yourself. How are you feeling, Kella?”

  “How do you think?” she muttered, her eyes red and puffy.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have told you about Jeyne sooner.”

  “Would it have made any difference?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “It’s not your fault she’s in Ur-Hal.” Kella rubbed her brow. “Can I borrow your pendant? I need the crystals to heal my headache.”

  It was the least that Jake could do. He slipped the gold chain over his head, but before he could hand it to Kella, the door to the cargo hold opened and Gran
ny Leatherhead stepped out.

  “What are you mischief makers up to?” she demanded.

  The captain looked exhausted as she eyed them suspiciously. Her skin appeared yellow and blotchy in the dim corridor light.

  “We’re not up to anything,” said Jake, the pendant dangling from his hand.

  “So why are you hanging around down here when there’s work to be done? I don’t care if you’re an alien, a crystal healer, or the ruler of Altus. No one gets special treatment aboard this ship.”

  “Aye, Captain,” said Jake.

  “Now get your sunburned butts—”

  Granny Leatherhead stopped in mid-sentence and clasped her stomach with clawlike fingers. Her face contorted and she cried out with pain before collapsing onto the grated floor.

  “Captain!” cried Jake, rushing to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  Kella and Nanoo were close behind and helped prop Granny Leatherhead up against the corridor wall.

  “It hurts,” she wailed, holding her stomach. “It’s like I’ve been stabbed with a cutlass.”

  “Let me take a look,” said Kella, lifting Granny Leatherhead’s fingers and prodding her swollen belly. “Is that tender?”

  “Ouch!” shrieked the captain. “Mind what you’re poking, girl.”

  Kella chewed her lip and studied Granny Leatherhead’s gaunt, yellow face. “Muscle pain, jaundiced skin, and livid spots. I reckon you’ve got Kalos scurvy, captain.”

  “What?”

  “Kalos scurvy. It’s quite common among spacefarers, especially those who eat a poor diet. The first recorded case was on Kalos a hundred years ago, when a food shortage led to an outbreak and half of the population died.”

  Granny Leatherhead swallowed hard. “Am I going to die?”

  “Not if I can help it,” said Kella, putting aside her own problems. “Jake, let me have your pendant.”

  “Can you stop the pain?” asked Granny Leatherhead.

  “I’m going to try,” said Kella, taking the pendant and holding it facedown, so the crystals hovered over the swollen flesh.

  “What we do?” asked Nanoo.

  “Go and get a stretcher,” instructed Kella. “We need to move the captain up to the medical bay.”

  Kella stooped over Granny Leatherhead and moved her hand in determined patterns while the crystals glowed through her fingers. If anyone could save the captain, it was Kella. Her crystal healing talents had been used to help most of the crew since she had become the ship’s medic.

  Jake and Nanoo fetched the stretcher from the medical bay and returned to the lower level. While they were gone, Kodan and Woorak had joined Kella and the captain. Granny Leatherhead could barely keep her eyes open.

  “W-w-will she be okay?” stuttered Woorak.

  “Yes,” said Kella. “I’ve reduced the swelling and eased the pain, but she’s going to need plenty of rest, as well as fresh fruit and vegetables.”

  “Rest?” moaned Granny Leatherhead. “I can’t rest. Who will look after the Dark Horse?”

  “Farid can take charge,” said Jake. “He is the first mate.”

  Granny Leatherhead shook her head. “I haven’t taken a sick day in twenty years and I’m not starting now.”

  The captain tried to stand, but her body had other ideas. With a cry of pain, she slid back down the wall and slumped onto the corridor floor.

  “Do you want to make it to retirement?” asked Kella. “If you don’t rest, you won’t make it off this planet.”

  “Okay, fine, I’ll take it easy.” Granny Leatherhead winced. “Whatever it takes.”

  “Good.” Kella stood up. “And stay off the rum.”

  Granny Leatherhead grabbed hold of Kella’s wrist and pulled her close. “I owe you, girl. Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t been aboard this ship.”

  Kella withdrew her arm and smiled modestly. “I’ll come and check on you later.”

  Kodan and Woorak strapped the captain to the stretcher and carried her up to the medical bay on the second floor. As they disappeared from view, Jake heard the captain’s voice echo down the corridor. “Watch those stairs, you clumsy clowns.”

  Nanoo looked appreciatively at Kella. “Good work, ship medic.”

  Kella half smiled, but her eyes remained sad.

  “The crew is lucky to have you,” said Jake. “I reckon that you’ve earned yourself a bowl of cyber-monk stew.”

  The cyber-monks had shared some of their supplies with the crew, including a stew made with vegetables from the monastery gardens. Jake warmed up three portions before sitting down with Kella and Nanoo to eat in the dining area. He figured that it would make good comfort food and it might cheer Kella up. In the background, a wall display was set to the Interstellar News.

  “Hey, turn it up,” said Kella, noticing a scrolling headline. “It’s about the Interstellar Navy.”

  Jake read the words incident in the seventh solar system and tapped the screen.

  “. . . It’s still not clear what the fleet of warships is doing in the seventh solar system,” said an energetic male reporter from the cockpit of his news craft. “But the wreckage has been confirmed as a planetary guard vessel from the independent colony of Vantos.”

  “Do we know who fired first?” asked the studio newsreader from a small window in the corner of the screen.

  “The Interstellar Navy is claiming that the Vantos vessel launched an unprovoked attack,” said the reporter. “However, the Vantos government is refusing to accept that their planetary guard would intentionally start a fight with a naval fleet. It could be the case that the Vantos ship fired by accident.”

  “A malfunction?” asked the newsreader, raising an eyebrow. “Or perhaps sabotage?”

  “Anything is possible at this stage,” said the reporter. “Vantos is famous for refusing to let the Galactic Trade Corporation mine its crystal-rich mountains. It could be that the Interstellar Navy is here to put pressure on the Vantos government.”

  An image of the naval fleet appeared on the display, followed by a picture of a burned-out wreck, which was little more than a blackened tangle of twisted metal.

  “Does this count as an act of war?” asked the newsreader, placing a heavy emphasis on the last word.

  “It’s difficult to say until we know what really happened,” said the reporter. “But with tensions rising between the United Worlds and the independent colonies, an incident like this could easily trigger a wider conflict.”

  “Thanks, Tom.” The newsreader turned to face the camera as her window filled the screen. “We’ll bring you more on that story as it develops. It comes on the same day the Interstellar Government announced an alliance with the Gorks to form a special naval fleet. A spokesperson has described the deal as a major step forward in alien relations, creating thousands of jobs for unemployed Gorks. However, several independent colonies have criticized the Interstellar Government for arming a notoriously violent species while paying them half the minimum wage. In other news, the price of crystals continues to rise . . .”

  Jake tried to make sense of what they had heard. Why were there so many naval vessels in the seventh solar system?

  “I don’t like the sound of the Interstellar Navy joining forces with the Gorks,” said Kella. “As if there aren’t enough people searching for us already.”

  Jake agreed. “We should tell the captain.”

  “No, she needs to rest,” said Kella firmly.

  Maaka Metal Head entered the dining area, accompanied by a nervous-looking novice from the monastery.

  “Jake, you’ve got a visitor.”

  The novice stood in front of the table, fidgeting with his white tunic. His expression was a mixture of fear and distaste, as he stared at the glowing wall panels. Jake had seen him around the monastery, but, like the other novices, he had kept his distance.

  “Hello,” said Jake and the novice jumped. “Did Father Benedict send you?”

  “Yes, that’s right. He wa
nts to see you in his office.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “We’ve received a video message,” said the novice. “It’s for you.”

  Jake, Kella, and Nanoo followed the novice to the monastery, where they were led through the tunneled corridors to the cyber-abbot’s office. Father Benedict stood alone in front of a large display screen, his expression solemn.

  “You had better take a seat,” he said, gesturing to three empty chairs. “We received this video message about an hour ago, but it was encrypted and we’ve only just decoded it.”

  The three of them sat down while Father Benedict used his skull implants to activate the display. Jake leaned forward and watched eagerly as the screen lit up.

  “It Callidus and Capio,” said Nanoo.

  Jake was glad to see that the two men were okay. Father Benedict dimmed the lights and started the video.

  “Ahoy, Shan-Ti monastery,” said Callidus. “This is a message for Jake Cutler.”

  Callidus sat closest to the camera, while Capio fidgeted in the background. It was strange to see them squeezed into the flickering display, their distorted voices carried across the stars on the stellar-net.

  “Jake, I wanted to let you know that we’ve found my old navy buddy,” said the fortune seeker. “I’ll get straight to the point: Helen doesn’t think that any planet or spaceport will be safe for you and the crew, not since the ISS Colossus disappeared. It sounds as though we’ve really shaken the Interstellar Navy. There are also rumors that the Galactic Trade Corporation is running out of crystals, which is why they’re so eager to find Altus and drill its moons. A crystal shortage would be disastrous for the United Worlds.”

  Capio mumbled something about missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Callidus ignored him and leaned closer to the camera.

  “Helen suspects that the Interstellar Government needs crystals to fund a war against the independent colonies, wiping them out forever. Admiral Vantard is trying to convince people that the colonies are plotting to attack the United Worlds, but this is an excuse to strengthen his fleet and strike first. If he succeeds, it could affect every single planet in the seven solar systems. In short, he will start the first ever galactic war.”