Orion Lost
Page 23
“Fine,” she said. “Prepare boarding parties and ready torpedoes—”
“Stop!” called the voice suddenly. “Scorpio, this is Orion. We’re going to activate our screens. Don’t attack!”
The screen flickered once, twice, and then showed an image of a bridge. It was a mess. There had been an explosion of some kind at the doorway; the deck was covered in rubble and the walls were black and charred.
A girl stood at the front, twelve or thirteen years old, maybe older. She wore a battered-looking jumpsuit. Her face was dirty and her hair unwashed. Behind her, other children sat at the bridge consoles.
Captain Murdoch blinked. She turned to her comms officer, who shrugged. “Orion, what is this?” she asked. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s us,” said the girl. She reached up to her throat and removed the microphone. “I’m Captain McKay.” Without the microphone her voice returned to that of a child, with a slight tremble. “We’re the crew.”
“Is this a joke? Are you trying to joke?”
Kier had mentioned an emergency and an inexperienced crew in his message. But surely he hadn’t meant this?
“It’s not a joke. I’m Captain McKay. Acting captain, I mean. We’re … we’re the crew. All the adults are disabled.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke, and she swallowed.
“Well—” started Murdoch.
“We’re all that’s left!” wailed the girl. Her voice suddenly became shrill and her face crumpled. “We’ve been running the ship all by ourselves!
“And you!” She pointed a finger at the screen. “You’re being so … so mean! Why are you being so mean?”
And then she started crying.
“It’s not fair!” she wailed.
Behind her, some of the other children were sniffling. One of them was resting his head on the console. A little girl with long blonde hair had tears running down her face.
Captain Murdoch stared, aghast. “Wait, what are you saying?” she managed at last. “Are you really the crew? Where are your parents?”
“They can’t Wake up,” sobbed the girl, with her hands over her eyes. “We’re on our own!”
“Um… Well, I mean…” Murdoch had never had children and had never particularly liked them.
“And now you— You’re going to attack us, and you’re going to k-kill us, and we tried so hard—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, of course I’m not going to kill you.”
“But you said!”
“I didn’t know the situation!” snapped Murdoch in exasperation. “No one’s going to kill anyone, OK? But we are going to board, to come aboard. To … rescue you. So, we’re going to do that, yes?”
The girl shook her head. “What about the mines?” she asked. “Ship made us plant all those mines!”
Murdoch stopped. “Hold the boarders,” she snapped. She turned back. “You mean there really are mines?”
“That’s what Ship said. I don’t know!”
“Captain,” said the tactical officer, “there is something—”
“Are there mines?” Murdoch demanded.
“I don’t think so. There might be something. Very small—”
“Captain,” interrupted her intelligence officer. “The Orion. It’s charging—”
“Oh god, you’ve set them off!” screamed the girl in terror.
And suddenly the sky exploded.
Their screen burst into a thousand points of blinding, bewildering light, a mass of lightning and fountains of fiery sparks.
“What the hell?” shouted Murdoch. “Evasive manoeuvres! No! Wait! Maintain position; don’t move! Activate defence systems!”
The world shattered around them, blasting in different colours – reds, blues, yellows, combinations in swirling patterns and formations. It was extraordinary, and baffling.
“Captain!” her intelligence officer said urgently.
“Will somebody tell me what the hell these are?” Murdoch shouted. “Are they missiles? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” said the tactical officer, bewildered, “I think they’re—”
An area of space detonated less than a kilometre away. And another, and another – ten blasts, all around them.
“What have you done?” roared Captain Murdoch. “You stupid girl, what have you done?”
“I’m sorry!” wailed the girl, collapsing into her chair. “I’m sorry!”
“Captain!” shouted the intelligence officer again. “Their ship! Its emitters are charged! It’s ready to Jump!”
Murdoch whirled back round to the screen and stared.
The girl was sitting now, with her back straight. She wasn’t crying any more. She didn’t seem like a little girl any more, either. She sat in the captain’s chair as if she owned the bridge.
“Are you kidding me?” snarled Murdoch. “If you even dare think about moving, I will blast you out of the—”
“Bye,” said the girl.
Orion Jumped.
“They weren’t mines,” said the tactical officer, later. “We’ve confirmed that now. The small ones were some sort of light show, something really small, no damage. Just—”
“Fireworks,” said Captain Murdoch. She gazed at the blank screen. “They were fireworks.”
“Yes, ma’am. Um. The big ones, they had no active systems. They were escape pods or something, filled with explosives. Orion shot them with their defence lasers to make them blow up.”
Captain Murdoch nodded.
“Pretty good shooting, really,” said the tactical officer. “Um. Sorry, ma’am.”
“It was an act,” mused Murdoch. Her silver pen twirled in her hand. Tap-tap-tap. “It was all an act. To distract us from spotting their emitters charging up.”
She shook her head. “Send the rat out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the tactical officer. “But this area of space, there are so many Jump directions; they could be anywhere. And if they’ve Jumped again…”
“We’ve lost them,” growled Murdoch.
The officer hesitated. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Captain,” said the comms officer, “we’re picking up a signal. Looks like they released another escape pod just before they Jumped. It’s sending…” She looked up. “It’s Captain Kier, ma’am.”
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
“Should we pick him up?”
Tap-tap-ta—
Captain Murdoch threw her pen at the wall so hard that it shattered into a dozen pieces.
37
Orion’s Watch
Arnold fastened the last three bolts and stood back.
“OK,” he said. “He’s booting up now.”
The children watched. Lights appeared on the body first. Then round the neck, then up to the face; the eyes blinked and then came on solid.
“Please enter designation,” the mouth said. It sounded scratchy but clear enough.
Arnold said, “Your name is Lucky. Welcome back.”
Lucky gazed at him. Then it moved its head.
“This is not my body,” it said, looking down.
“No,” said Arnold. “Your body was destroyed. This body belonged to another Gizmo. We couldn’t repair its head, so we gave you the body. How do you feel?”
Lucky looked up.
“This is not my body,” it said again.
Beth smiled. “You’ll get the hang of it,” she said.
They went up to the bridge together. Mikkel walked beside Beth, reading from a pad.
“Gravity,” he said. “Oxygen, heating, radiation shielding, electrics, food, water—”
“We’ll take a look,” said Beth.
Vihaan was already making notes.
“And Jump, of course,” said Mikkel seriously.
“Lucille?” asked Beth.
“Ah, oui,” sang Lucille cheerfully. “I think only two more Jumps we need, then we will be calibrated. And then –” she shrugged – “home, yes?”
They reached the brid
ge, and Ship’s hologram appeared.
“All systems ready for Jump, captain,” it said.
“Thanks, Ship. Take your seats, people.”
She looked at them, as they settled.
“OK,” she said. “We’re in pretty good shape. It’s been ten days and two Jumps since Murdoch. We have to keep moving – she’ll be sending rats out to find us. We can’t hang around. But we’re out of the immediate danger. Mikkel’s reconnected all the sleep pods. Everyone’s OK – our parents, our families, the crew, they’re all safe – and as soon as we reach a base, we’ll be able to Wake them up. We’ve met the Videshi and survived. We’ve met the Scrapers and survived. And –” she smiled – “we’ve even survived each other.”
Vihaan gave her a crooked grin.
“We’re going to make it. We’re going to get our families to safety. Because…”
We are the masters of our own ship.
“…because we’re awesome.”
Beth took her seat in the captain’s chair. “OK,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They Jumped.
Acknowledgements
There are so many people who helped get me, and Orion Lost, to this point. So, in no particular order, thanks to: Helen Bleck, whose superb editing of the first draft made it fit to show in public; Rose, who was the first to ever read this book, and whose enthusiasm gave me hope; Amelie, for her detailed analysis of the characters she found annoying; my agent, Caroline Montgomery of Rupert Crew Ltd, for her tireless efforts; Sarah, awesome beta reader; the Visible Ink writers’ group for feedback and encouragement (plus biscuits); Brie, for endless support; and Tom Bonnick and everyone at Nosy Crow, who have done magical things at every turn.
And above all, love, gratitude, happiness and precious things to Catherine, without whom I would never be anything but bits.
Copyright
First published in the UK in 2020 by Nosy Crow Ltd
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Text © Alastair Chisholm, 2020
Cover illustration © Dan Mumford, 2020
The right of Alastair Chisholm to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
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