by M. D. Cooper
“Quit drifting in dark matter.” Nikili straightened the collar of her uniform: a black unitard and a red jacket covered with insignia and patches of achievement. She had more patches than anyone in Orbital Rescue (ORS). Since she had last seen Hook, she’d been awarded six more. Absently, she patted them. “ETA forty minutes. Contact the captain. Who is she, by the way?”
“It’s a he. Khaled Castillo.” Lucy waved a finger over the ‘contact CIT now’ icon. CIT stood for citizen in trouble. She nudged the CIT icon eight more times. “No reply.”
“The AI isn’t answering?”
“Comm. won’t connect.”
“Is the system down?” Nikili squinted at the monitor. “Is it even possible?” She had never heard of an outage.
Lucy waved a finger over another icon. “No.”
Nikili hit quadrant dispatch, which was based on Eris. It didn’t answer. She sent a summons to her station on Orcus.
“What do you need, ORS Echols?” The squad coordinator had a tone as serious as the worst emergency.
“Comm. check. We can’t raise dispatch on Eris or the CIT.”
“Receiving loud and clear on Orcus.”
“Try to contact CIT KSH0021 through dispatch on Eris.”
“Raising.”
A longer delay than usual spanned between Nikili’s Huey and squadron base on Orcus.
“No response,” the squadron coordinator stuttered. She never stuttered. ORS agents were trained not to. “It’s as if Eris and the hauler disappeared. Authorized to upgrade to level six emergency.”
Pulse fluttering, Nikili locked her wrist into the command chair and brought up the holo controls. “I’m on the job. We’ll bring Captain Castillo home safe and sound.” Icons flickered over her visor.
The hum of propulsion burst into a louder whine. The ship accelerated, and Nikili’s heart raced. Out of the transparent hull surrounding her, she studied the environs of Orcus, especially the standard approach from Serenity Sol Station. “Where are you, Castillo?”
“There!” Lucy pointed. “He’s just past the shadow of Vanth.” Vanth was Orcus’s solitary moon.
“He’s way off flight path. That’s quite a gash in the hull. Why isn’t hull damage in the file?” Nikili frowned at the propeller-shaped hauler and at the data before her. This mission wouldn’t end in an unexpected surprise. “E51.” She addressed her vessel’s AI. “New scans. All codes. Do them twice.”
She set a braking sequence to dock with the hauler. The clear bubble in which she sat rocked. E51 blared with an error and refused to dock. The sleek tail of the Huey shuddered.
“Until scans are completed, docking is unsafe, ORS Echols.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen.” Nikili switched to manual override and coasted the Huey to the hauler. She swung the teardrop-shaped vessel sideways and deployed the magnetic field on the hatch. The hauler sucked onto the rescue ship without a groan. “I don’t get why that was so hard for you, E51.” She wouldn’t leave Captain Castillo hanging by being overly cautious. Her instinct told her to step it up and not wait for the meticulous computers to tell her it was safe enough. If it wasn’t, Castillo needed her. Now.
She stood and grabbed for her gear. The interior lights flared brighter, chasing away the shadows inside the Huey. Most of the ship was a dark shade of red. A brilliant chrome ladder beside the airlock led to the lower levels: bunks, living quarters, medical bays, engineering, and extra rescue equipment.
A set of lockers right behind the command seats held protective suits, medical supplies, and emergency repair gear. Nikili blinked at the first aid kit. “How are Castillo’s vitals?”
“Heart rate is erratic.”
“Thanks, E51. Lucy, do you want repairs or medical?”
Lucy slid on her shiny yellow spacesuit and smiled. “Grease over blood, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m good with that.” Although not heavy, Nikili had a broader frame than Lucy. Taking up more space on a tiny spacecraft wasn’t always ideal. She whacked an elbow against the lockers and cursed. “Daughter of a wind fart! Why do I always do that? Every freaking time.”
Lucy giggled. “Be more mindful, Echols, or you’ll have to rescue yourself.”
Shaking the sting out of her elbow, Nikili trudged to the airlock, slinging the medical pack over her shoulder. “Is the hauler’s AI speaking to you yet, E51?”
“CIT’s heart rate and respiration are elevated. Advise immediate medical attention.”
Nikili wondered if the hauler’s AI had been upgraded and had contaminated E51. An AI should always reply to a direct inquiry. “Answer my initial question. The hauler’s AI?”
“She refers to herself as Harene.”
“A she, huh?” Yeah, the hauler’s AI had to have had an illegal upgrade. “What’s she saying?”
“She’s shivering.”
“What?” Squinting through the hazy porthole of the Huey then through the scuffed up porthole of the hauler, Nikili gained no insight. “An AI can’t shiver. What’s going on?”
“Reporting what Harene is communicating without deviation.”
“Hmm.” Nikili grabbed her helmet off the shelf by the airlock. “Helmets and comm. links on, Lucy.”
“Aye. You can take the lead, Echols.”
“You need to step up more often if you want to transfer with me to Deep Space Rescue.” She needed to escape the ghosts of a mission gone wrong two years ago. It didn’t matter whose fault it was, or that it was the only CIT she’d ever lost. She saw the faces of that family every time she sped off with E51.
Leaning over, Lucy pecked Nikili on the cheek. “You’re not leaving me. Not ever.” Her smart tie had quite a time taming her shellacked waves into a ponytail. Her hair just didn’t want to move. She shouldered the pack containing emergency repair equipment. With one arm, she swept her helmet off the shelf and set it into place.
Two metallic clicks with ensuing green lights around the necks signaled both of their helmets were fastened correctly. Lighter clicks with a pop of static announced the powering on of comm. links.
“E51 check. Lucy check,” Nikili said.
“I hear you, ORS Echols. ORS Ashida’s comm. is working properly.”
Lucy rolled her eyes at the AI replying for her. “It is. For the record, the third wheel in this relationship isn’t me.”
Despite standing next to Nikili, Lucy sounded a planet away through the headset.
“Rescuing we go.” Nikili placed her gloved hand on the hatch. The section she touched lit up in red. She tapped it, and the chamber sealed her and Lucy inside. A moment later, the seal broke on the hauler, allowing them entry.
Pausing on the threshold, Nikili searched the immediate environs. Rime coated the walls, floor, and ceiling. Lighting was off. Nikili’s gloved fingers brushed along the hairy frost. The rough texture left scratches in the glove. Just how cold was it?
She glanced at Lucy. “Stay close, Ashida.”
Chapter 3
A slight pressure against Nikili’s back let her know Lucy followed on her heels. Literally. Powerful beams in the fingers of Lucy’s gloves cut through the frozen air on the hauler. The airlock opened into living quarters ringed by doors to cargo bays, bunks, and flight control. The lively sky-blue tinting most of the interior had been dulled by white frost.
“Link me to Harene, E51.” A soft click sounded to let Nikili know she’d been obeyed. “Harene?”
“Welcome, ORS 51,” the hauler’s AI responded. Its words stuttered, as if it were really shivering.
“Where’s Captain Khaled Castillo? Is he all right?” She crept in another step and studied sealed cargo bay three. The ice was inches thick over the entirety of the door. The control panels had the appearance of being frozen for centuries. Nikili had been to worlds made up of myriad types of ice and hadn’t seen such a thick coating form so quickly. Not even on Triton, which neared absolute zero.
“Khaled is locked inside bunk room two,” Harene said.
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br /> “Feed me his vitals.” The data streamed over Nikili’s faceplate for a fraction of a second and froze. She tapped the side of her helmet. “Information compromised. Resend.”
“I don’t think you should continue,” Harene said.
Groans sounded from inside cargo bay three. Lucy jammed her back against Nikili’s.
“All clear.” Lucy’s words ended in little pants.
Nikili understood. There was something seriously wrong on this hauler.
Having survived five thousand sixty-two rescues, Nikili put her faith in surviving one more. “Identify your upgrade, Harene.”
“One over base.”
Which meant only her voice had been modified. So why did Harene behave so oddly?
“What happened? Report from the first sign of abnormal,” Nikili commanded.
“Communications lost with Outer Sol traffic control at 06:00 UT. 06:50 UT collision with foreign object. Interior hull not compromised. Loss of xylomannan from outer hull detected 07:01 UT. Captain Khaled Castillo departed hauler to investigate, 07:11 UT.”
“Was the object embedded in the hull identified?” Nikili ran a hand over the thick frost on the cargo door. “Where is it now?”
“It was a large panel of ice. It is in cargo bay three.”
Nikili frowned. “Ice? What kind of ice? What is its composition?”
“H20.”
“And?”
“H20. Type one.”
“Pure water? Out here on the edge of the Outer Sol?”
“Affirmative.”
“Captain Castillo took it inside the ship? How much ice is it?”
“Two point five kilotons.”
“A fantastic paycheck.” Nikili ran scanners in her glove along the icy walls. The result didn’t vary: hydrogen, oxygen, and xylomannan. “If the ice contains the xylomannan, why is it frozen, Harene? E51?”
“Unknown.” E51 responded like itself again.
“We’re missing something.” Nikili took another step and peered up at the ceiling. Icicles hung off exercise equipment and bots. “Regular ice shouldn’t be turning the ship into an iceberg. It’s not ice nine.”
Lucy directed the beams in her fingers around the corridor. “Access to engineering will be impossible if cargo three is frozen solid. Is there another entry, Harene?”
“Bunk room two.”
“Where we also find Captain Castillo,” Nikili said. “Let’s go.” Her boots slipped. “It’s slicker than a wet carrot.” She dropped to her hands and knees.
“I’m not familiar with wet carrots.” Lucy knelt and crawled after Nikili. “Why is it you are?”
“Hook used to make carrot noodles. They slid onto the floor a lot, especially when he pissed me off.”
“Reason to only cook in low gravity and when not angry.”
“Angry cooking never turns out well. Then you get more pissed off about a bad meal.”
“Maybe if you and Hook had stayed out of the galley, you’d still be together.”
“Nah. He had a problem with my eating, too.”
“Cutting pasta is taboo for folks from Europa. I’ve told you that. They’re incredibly superstitious.”
“What could possibly happen from cutting pasta?”
“For one, it ended your marriage.”
“There was more to our split than that.”
“It was the noodle that broke his back.”
“Give it up, Lucy.”
They passed cargo bays one and two, and flight control. Crates stamped from all over the Sol filled the living quarters. Nikili stopped short. Lucy crashed into her ass.
“Good thing I didn’t have the chili beans for lunch. They’re never cooked enough.” Nikili laughed.
“Good thing I’m wearing a helmet.” Lucy came up beside Nikili. “Why are we stopping? Bunk two is just there.” She pointed to a door a few yards away.
“Look at the cargo. What do you see?”
“Boxes. Marked with an origination from Earth. Sent to Moon Colony 12. They sold it to Rhea then on to Serenity Sol Station. Castillo picked it up there. So?”
“And?” Nikili pointed at the ice-coated walls and floor then knocked on the crate.
“The cargo isn’t frozen.”
“Maybe what’s in the boxes sucked out the xylomannan from the hauler’s nanites.”
“Possibly. Let’s open one.” Lucy shrugged the repair pack off her shoulder and rummaged through it for the mini hydraulic jaws. The filament-thin ends nestled into the microscopic crevice between the lid and crate. The two ends split apart and pried open Castillo’s cargo.
Nikili pulled herself onto her feet and motioned for Lucy to do the same. She unholstered her striker strapped to the arm of her suit and pointed it at the crate. “Behind me, Ashida.”
“Don’t blow yourself up in the process.” Lucy unfolded a square foil and tapped the edge. It became a body shield. She maneuvered it between Nikili and the crate. “Do it.”
Gripping onto the edge of the shield, Nikili swung her foot and kicked off the lid. It banged against the wall and chipped off a good chunk of ice. She powered on the striker. It made a low rumble that tickled up her arm.
Lucy’s glove scanned the crate continuously. “Mic is picking up…”
“Music?” Nikili peered around the shield. Color whirled inside the box. “Are those…”
“Plastic. Vintage, fossil-fuel derived plastic from Earth. Worth a fortune.”
Nikili inched past the shield. Pots of white and yellow flowers twirled inside purple pots with pink polka dots. “Our ancestors wasted it on dancing flowers? Have you ever seen the like?”
“Only on the internet. I thought they were a hoax, honestly.”
Anybody stationed off Earth would. Plastic made from fossil fuel had become a rare commodity. Black oil was all but extinct.
Turning up her mic, Nikili listened to the song to which the flowers twirled and gyrated.
Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your answer do!
I’m half crazy,
All for the love of you!
“Crazy indeed.” Lucy’s shoulders shook. Her cackling laugh followed a moment later.
“Castillo didn’t find any of this humorous.” Nikili bit her cheek to keep her giggles in check. “Harene? How many crates on board?”
“Nine thousand.”
“Wow. With this much Earthan plastic, Captain Castillo is crazy rich.” Nikili shone the beams from her fingers over the ridiculous cargo. “They’re activated by motion. I see the sensors. Bet they were refitted with new power cells. That’ll hurt their antique value.”
“But why didn’t they freeze? Does organic, fossil fuel plastic have a natural defense?”
“Maybe. Maybe only synthetic plastic freezes. Organic plastic is highly prized. Maybe this is part of the reason why.”
“The salvager will know.”
“Give it up, Lucy. We’re not contacting Hook.” Kneeling, Nikili ran scans of her own, studying the elements scrolling across her faceplate. “Could the flowers have absorbed the xylomannan? It would explain why they’re not frozen.” She picked up one of the happy, plastic flower pots. A puff of organic green sat in the pot, covering the organic plastic dirt. “Moss. The moss is loaded with the xylomannan.”
“I’ve never seen crates packed with living moss before. Xylomannan does come from living creatures on Earth, though. So maybe it makes sense that the moss contains the natural antifreeze.”
“Why is it no longer in the nanites on the hauler?” Nikili’s brows pinched, threatening to give her a headache.
“It’s not our place to ask why, only to get Castillo and the hauler to safety.”
Nodding, Nikili placed the flower pot in its slot. “Signal the salvager to tow the hauler to the station at Orcus.”
“You don’t want to tag Hook yourself?” Lucy replaced the lid on the crate, silencing the flowers’ silly song.
“No, and I hope to be gone before he arrives.”
“E51, signal the SO to move in for the tow.” Lucy glided to bunk two.
Nikili followed and knocked on the door. “Tap me into ship communications please, Harene.” A light click sounded a split second later. “Captain Castillo? It’s ORS 51. I’m Nikili. My partner, Lucy, and I are here to help. Can you unseal your bunk?”
“A-a-are they still out there?”
“Who?” Nikili once more swept her scanners over the bits of the hauler within reach and winked at code forty-seven on her faceplate for E51 to do another analysis of the cargo ship, which would probe deeper.
“They had t-teeth. Big teeth.”
Nikili muted the connection to Castillo and whispered to Lucy. “He must be breathing bad air.” She moved her tongue to signal the Huey. “E51, deploy fire retardants.”
“Not everyone who gets space sick goes for a torch,” Lucy said.
“Just in case.”
Lucy patted Nikili’s shoulder. “It won’t ever happen again for the mere reason you won’t let it.” Her lips quivered into a reassuring smile. “Get him to open the door so we can finish this mission and go home.”
Nikili switched on the comm. channel to the hauler once again. “Nothing with teeth out here. Open the door.”
“I can’t get up.”
“The things with teeth are gone and Lucy is an expert at snuffing them. You don’t need to worry. But if you don’t let us in, we’re going to have to force the door.”
“Just get me away from those things.”
“Harene, can you make the walls of bunk two transparent, please?”
“Composite too compromised, ORS 51. Risk to hull breach is eighty-seven percent.”
“Okay. Plan B.” Nikili checked Castillo’s scans one more time. He had no weapons, no blow torches, no tools. She rolled a shoulder and grabbed the hydraulic jaws off the crate. She set it on the door. The composite cracked before it gave way, shattering the door. The nanites didn’t group back together like they should. She motioned at the pile of composite to Lucy. “Do you think the nanites went nuts?”
“Not unless the AI did.”
Bumps rose on the back of Nikili’s neck. “Let’s get moving.” She lunged into bunk two, well, as much as possible. It was filled with boxes. “Castillo, where are you?”