“Hell, no. I doubt anyone on this ship knows,” Sky said, her eyes twinkling.
“Hell in this context?”
“Expletive,” Sky chuckled, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I used to do the guy who invented it—the gravity drive. He explained it all to me. In fact, I’m the one who stole the technology and brought it to Quin, but don’t tell anyone.”
Douglas flinched, reminding himself that Sky was not as innocent as he pretended she was. John was not her first love; he probably was nothing more than a fling to her. If Sky had brought gravity technology to Quin and Quin had had it long enough to put it into spaceships, then she had been scavenging and stealing for a long time.
“Why didn’t you give the technology to Rocan?” he asked.
“I’m a quiet traveler,” she said, surveying the galley, then deciding to take him to his room instead. “In a city like Quin, I can come and go as I please with hardly anyone noticing. I’m one in a million. In Rocan, the moment you saw me, I was—”
“One in a thousand,” he finished, sitting on the lower bunk. “But is there any place you like well enough to stay? What if you fell in love?”
“I’ve fallen in love many times. John was the first I wanted to take with me, though,” she said sweetly, ruffling his hair. She made him miss his mother. She put the pillow on her lap, then raised a hand, letting him lie down, snuggled against her. Her fingers combed soothingly through his hair, and he could almost hear his mother singing.
“Do you remember when I told you that magic is real?” Sky asked. “You said I glow sometimes.”
“I was just being crazy,” he said, squirming as his belly filled with acid. “I’m so much better since I left Rocan. I don’t see phantom wings on people. I don’t see walking fireballs. I don’t think you glow.”
“Rocan was a bit of a hub for that magic energy,” Sky whispered, her hand going still. “I don’t know any other place outside of Terrana that gives me that feeling.”
“Is that why you travel so much?” he asked, rolling onto his back and looking up at her. “You’re looking for it?”
“Looking to get away from it, I think,” Sky said, her face tightening. “The Sequesterer—the magic creature that makes it look like I glow—it killed most of my family. I took it away so that it couldn’t hurt anyone. And I keep moving so that it doesn’t have a chance to kill anyone else.”
Douglas waited for her to say more, but he could tell she was barely choking out the confession as is. “You’re afraid it’s going to kill us. Kill me. That’s why you’re always dressed to run.”
“I’m not afraid with you here. I’m not,” she insisted, squeezing his hands, like she was afraid he’d disappear. “You carry a piece of Rocan with you . . . a piece that brings me peace. Sometimes. This is all very new to me. And more confusing than grav-tech.”
“Maybe if you tell me what you know . . .” he suggested, sitting up so that he could embrace her. Sky twitched, like she didn’t want to be touched, and they wound up leaning shoulder to shoulder.
“Terrana is a captured moon, and it has these dark veins of gravitationally dense—”
“Not about the grav-sources,” Douglas laughed, pinching her arm. “About the magic. Maybe there’s something we can do together that you can’t do by yourself.”
“It’s dangerous to talk too much about that,” Sky whispered, linking his arm and hugging her knees. “You can’t tell anyone what I just told you. Not in Rocan, and especially not out here. It’s not safe. It’s just not.”
12
Saskia thrust her blade into the ground, trying to cut the potato roots free of the rock and soil that gripped them. Of all the plants they’d found, these would stretch the farthest and keep the longest. The potatoes had strange shapes, more reminiscent of proper roots than the rounded ones she was familiar with, likely because of the rocky soil. Some were brown, but several had a reddish tint and a few were pink. Potato farming was so much simpler in the hydroponics labs on Terrana.
The fistfight between Tray and Hawk irked her, and she hadn’t gotten a clear indication of who had started it or why. After years of meekly accepting Danny’s verbal abuse, it seemed Tray had finally found a way to vent, though Hawk was not a weak target.
“Do you think they’ll kill each other, sir?” Saskia asked, bringing the potato and two other roots she’d unearthed to the collection basket. Her legs were cramped and she needed an excuse to stand, although standing made her head ache. Fighting the headache, she massaged the bridge of her nose with her gloved hand, smearing dirt on her skin. Good thing I didn’t rub my eyes.
“One of them had better be left standing. The ship won’t fly with two,” Danny said, chuckling to himself. He was supposed to be harvesting the cabbages, but had stumbled upon a patch of coriander and become obsessed with taking as much as possible, insisting that Tray would be stoked when he saw it—whatever that meant.
“We should not have left Amanda behind,” Saskia said, pulling off her gloves and slapping them together to get the dirt off. She squinted as the dust caught the wind, stinging her eyes.
“Tray can handle her,” Danny said confidently. “He can handle Hawk too. I suspect there will be less fighting when I’m not around.”
It surprised Saskia that the captain had caught that nuance, though it shouldn’t have. She never would have let him buy her ship, if she didn’t trust him to see things like that. Danny had complete confidence in his brother; he just didn’t tell Tray. It was a sibling thing.
“If you’re looking for work, there’s a patch of horseradish a little ways that way,” Danny said, pointing down one of the game tracks. “I think we’ve hit the center of the old farming area in this Dome, because just about everything I see is edible.”
“Is there a reason you’re leaving the roots to me, sir?” Saskia asked, raising her brow sardonically.
“There are beans that way it that’s your preference,” he said, pointing a different direction. “I figured the radish would last longer and add more flavor to the palate. That’s all.”
“Yes, sir,” Saskia chuckled. Danny hid it well, but he was a food snob, like his brother.
Saskia rubbed her face again, trying to clear the weariness and the dark spots from her vision. They’d been at this for hours and they needed a break. So far, they had collected two crates of food, one devoted entirely to weird apples. There was one last box to fill and all it had so far were her three tiny tubers and a bundle of the captain’s coriander.
“Are you all right?” Danny asked.
“Fine,” Saskia croaked, summoning her strength.
“Sit down. Drink some water,” he ordered, pulling off his gloves and handing her his canteen. She had water of her own, but she appreciated the gesture. Danny sat on the ground first and she followed his lead, grateful to take the load off her cramped legs.
“I wasn’t expecting to find food here,” Danny confessed, offering her one of the weird apples they’d collected. “I thought we’d come out here and rest for a little bit—let the others learn how to put out their own fires. I want to go back to that city.”
“You can explore tomorrow. Tray would love to go with you,” Saskia said, turning the lumpy green and purple fruit in her hand. She wasn’t feeling hungry, which was odd considering how long and hard they’d been working. She forced herself to take a bite, anticipating the tartness, but gagged anyway. Her tongue felt dry and the food tasted like burnt hull plating.
“Even if it means getting muddy?” Danny quipped, smiling wistfully. He picked up one of the dark pink potatoes, brushing the dirt off. “Hey! These things have spines!” he cried, dropping the potato.
“I know. A few of them made it through my gloves,” Saskia nodded, touching the pricks on her fingers. Her headache was getting worse. She took another gulp of water, trying to wash down the bits of food that seemed stuck to the back of her throat.
“The potatoes we collected yesterday didn’t have sp
ines,” Danny said, pinching his finger, trying to remove the bramble.
“Yes they did. Sky and I sheered them off before bringing them back to the ship.”
“I did not know that,” Danny said, frowning at his hand.
Saskia massaged her temple. She’d grown soft working on Oriana. The only hard days were in port when the gravity weighed them down and there was a lot of time for rest. There was no time for rest here, and her old hip injury was acting up.
Danny touched her face and she flinched, jerking away from his hand. “You don’t look well,” he said.
“It’s a headache. Started an hour ago. I’m not used to all the natural daylight,” she said quickly. Now that he’d pointed it out, she felt even worse.
“I’m feeling headachy too,” he said. “Let’s head back with what we’ve got. If Tray wants the horseradish, he can come back himself.”
“Okay,” Saskia agreed quickly, rubbing her eyes again. There seemed to be more patches of darkness than light now. The captain tugged her arm, but when she tried to stand, the world spiraled.
Tray sat on a stool behind the cooking island in the galley, hunched over a pot of water that refused to boil. It took nearly ten minutes for him to realize he hadn’t turned the stove on. His body ached and despite the hard scrubbing he’d done in the shower, he couldn’t seem to get the dirt out from under his fingernails.
The water started to boil and Tray groaned. He hadn’t thought too hard about what he’d put in the water, but so many meals started with boiling water and he’d hoped inspiration would strike with action. Apparently, his inspiration was taking a nap, and he was thinking maybe he should do the same, but if he didn’t eat first, he’d wake up in worse condition than Hawk. Tray knew for a fact that Hawk could eat ham, and would continue to do so as long as no one explained to him what it was made of.
“Tray?”
Tray blinked, surprised to hear Danny’s voice. Danny sounded as tired as Tray felt.
“Hey, brother. Good to hear your voice,” Tray greeted cheerfully, tapping his Feather, activating the link on his Virp. “Did you two finally get hungry?”
“Tray?” Danny said again, his voice strained. Hopping off the stool, Tray trudged down to the bay to open the doors.
“I’m here. Do you read? What’s going on?” he asked, pushing up his sleeves.
“Don’t know exactly,” Danny croaked. “Feels a little like dehydration and a lot like a shock-dart. Need quarantine.”
Tray froze on the stairwell, his senses fully alert. “Where are you?” he asked, pressing his Feather harder into his ear, trying to make out his brother’s responses.
“In the air,” Danny said, panting softly. “We’re on our way back. Saskia’s been unconscious since . . . oh, Zive. I’m pretty sure I didn’t pass you. I blacked out.”
Turning on his heels, Tray charged upstairs and hit the ship’s Vring. “Sky, I need you in the ward room now!” he said. His fingers flew over the controls in the ward room, activating sensors, navigation, and communication, trying to get a beat on the Bobsled. Sky had warned them to deactivate the ‘sled’s homing device before coming into this area—something about local scavengers. “Danny, I’m going to patch into the controls and take over flying. Danny?”
“You can do that?” Danny asked, dazed.
“We’ll see. I need you to stay conscious just in case,” Tray said. “Nolwazi, I need the navigation schematics for the Bobsled.”
“Schematics not available,” Nolwazi replied.
“Anything related to the Bobsled. Files approximately three years old!” Tray cried.
“Build files found.”
“List them!” Tray scanned the folder containing the plans for the ‘sled. Blueprints, fuel, electronics systems—bingo! If he was lucky, he could hack the existing control design.
“You’re a lot smarter than I give you credit for,” Danny said, chuckling weakly.
“That’s because you give me no credit.”
“I give you credit,” Danny insisted.
“Like that time I was renting that grav-lift and you thought I was soliciting a prostitute?” Tray huffed.
“You rang, Skipper?” Sky said sarcastically. Tray smirked and waved her in. He had to compensate for the fact that the flight systems controlled a grav-drive rather than a jet engine, but the basic coding language was the same, and he had the springboard he needed.
“We are going to patch into the Bobsled’s flight controls and you are going to land it remotely,” Tray explained to Sky, motioning to the chair next to his.
“Why me?”
“I’ve never sat inside the damn thing,” Tray said snippily.
“You should, the seats are nice,” Danny slurred.
“Don’t cut out on me yet, brother,” Tray said, typing as fast as he could, checking to make sure every index was embedded in the proper array.
“So, um, what’s your plan for visual, because the ‘sled doesn’t exactly have external sensors and the captain sounds like he’s seeing fairies,” Sky said, sliding into the seat and leaning to look over his shoulder as he finished and compiled the test code.
“Amanda, I need you on the Obs Deck,” Tray called into the Vring. Then he pointed urgently to the keyboard in front of Sky. “Nolwazi, error check. Compare functions to flight simulator game console mode.”
Tray’s dad had given him a Virclutch for school, but refused to let him put games on it, so Tray had learned to program his own. His first attempt resulted in a spaceship game in which the ship crashed two seconds after takeoff every time without fail. He’d never found the bug in that one. Hopefully the ‘sled would fare better.
“Error line 2007. Multiple warnings.”
Tray checked the failure point and fixed an index that was listed twice. “Try again.”
“Error line 1112. Multiple warnings.”
The error happened earlier in the code. It should have been picked up first! “Again!”
“Eighty-seven warnings. The first is on line 50.”
“But no errors. Good enough,” Tray muttered. “Okay, try now. Danny, Sky is going to try a few controls.”
“What are the controls?” Sky asked, frustrated. “I have a keypad in front of me, not a yoke.”
“Up, down, port, starboard, speed up, slow down. If those work, I’ll program more,” Tray said, pointing to the appropriate letters on the console.
Hawk came into the ward room first, and Amanda hung back by the door. She’d been doing well right up until he made her dig up some plants, and then she started flinging dirt and screeching like the world was going to end. He couldn’t tell if she was still confused or just ashamed.
“Amanda, Danny’s in danger, so get the hell in here,” Tray said adamantly.
“What’s going on?” Hawk asked. “Can I help?”
God damn language barrier! “Yes, two pairs of eyes are better than one,” Tray said in Trade before switching to Lanvarian and giving Amanda a run-down of the situation. “You’re going to be Sky’s eyes.”
“Binoculars?” Amanda asked.
“I don’t know where they’d be,” Tray said. Danny would have known. “Use the magnification setting on your Virp. When they land, Hawk, you’ll get the stretcher from the infirmary. Saskia’s already unconscious.”
Even if he got Danny and Saskia home safely, he’d have no idea what to do with them. They always relied on Saskia in medical situations. Tray’s medical expertise didn’t extend past treating caffeine headaches and food poisoning.
“How are the controls?” he asked Sky.
“I don’t know,” Sky said emotionlessly.
“Too crude?”
“I don’t know,” Sky repeated, a little more offended. “Danny doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Danny?” Tray called, tapping the Vring again to make sure he got a connection. “Danny!”
13
Amanda’s maroon trench coat flapped in the breeze as she climbed on top of Or
iana and scanned the tree line. The harsh daylight blinded her, but the Obs Deck limited their sight lines too much. When combined with the weight of gravity and the fight to stay balanced atop the spaceship, Amanda’s vision filled with spots. A single voice on the Feather squawked in her ear—Tray desperately calling for Danny and getting no reply. Silence did not imply hopelessness, though.
Hawk was silhouetted against the light-saturated sky. He turned her westward and pointed. “That way!” He spoke Trade, but the Virp translated.
“They’re not supposed to be that way,” Amanda said. She turned anyway, aiming her Virp where he pointed, expecting to spot the enemy. “Guard,” she murmured, seeing a dark shadow streak across her screen. The world around her went dark a moment, a memory surfacing.
“The picture is warped,” Hawk said, tugging the Virp, making the image swing and rotate.
“The Virp display is correcting for my eyes,” Amanda gasped, gripping his hands, taking a moment to focus on reality and blot out the past.
“I can’t even tell what you’re seeing.”
“Welcome to my life,” Amanda muttered. She’d had perfect vision and perfect mental health before the Revolution. Somewhere in the last ten years, her eyes had gone bad and her brain had gone haywire, but her Elysian captors either hadn’t noticed the degradation or hadn’t cared enough to treat her.
“Do you see?” Hawk asked.
“I see them,” she confirmed. Dropping to her knees, she planted herself firmly and braced her Virp hoping the light trail on a quick exposure could substitute for her ailing vision. She was used to doing this on Terrana with only the horizon as her guide. Here, the planet’s curvature was different and the horizon was obscured by trees. Gauging the motion of the Bobsled was more of a guessing game.
“That’s your father’s ship. Do you see, Amanda?” Amanda’s mother pressed her face to the Dome wall to see outside.
Mirroring the move, Amanda peered outside, wishing there was less glare from inside the Dome. She observed the ever-growing light hovering over the gray horizon, setting her stopwatch, and not blinking until she heard it beep. With practice, she had learned to gauge distances across the barren lunar surface. “He’ll be landing in ten minutes,” Amanda announced.
Trade Circle: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 3) Page 10