False Horizons

by CJ Birch

  Then you gotta carry two guns: one sonic blaster for wide range and the other a water vaporizer for maximum damage. Basically it’s a dehydrator. Shooting it at an enemy will dry out all the liquid in their body. I’m told it’s a painful way to die, almost as bad as space exposure.

  The last weapon is for emergencies only. The man pulled out a thin tube, and inside was a long dart. He said it’s more for using on yourself if you’re caught. It holds the saliva of a Krab beast found on his home world. He pointed to Sarka and said that one drop can kill someone Sarka’s size in under a minute.

  Sarka huffed. “I doubt that. I’m immune to poisons.”

  “Not this one, mate. The only being immune is the Krab beast. And even then, some have died from licking their own wounds.”

  I find Sarka later sitting at our table. It’s the farthest from most of the other soldiers and gives us the most privacy. More often than not, Tup will come sit with us, ending any discussion between us. For the past week Sarka has talked of nothing else. At first he wanted to steal an escape pod. But we’d be back where we started. His next plan wasn’t any better. He wanted to hijack the ship. The two of us. Unarmed.

  I set my tray down and dig in. I’m starving after today’s training. While I wouldn’t say I love the food, it’s grown on me a bit. Sarka eats like someone’s going to steal his.

  “So you’re not actually thinking of starting a revolt on here, are you?”

  He takes a bite of some loaf that reminds me of soggy bread. “Not everyone’s happy with this war.” He leans in. “Do you know the last time they actually engaged the illya? A decade. That’s right. Ten years.” He swirls his fingers around the mess. “Every single soldier sitting in this room has never seen combat before. All they do is train for it. All day, every day, and have since they got on here. They want a change. And we can give them that change.” His dark-blue eyes glow with a new challenge. I imagine he must miss being at the center of conflict. He’s spent the majority of his life in one form of war or another. It must become the norm for him.

  When I was very young my mom told me that he was a product of his time. Born at the worst possible moment in history, caught between before and after, he would always live on the cusp. He can remember Earth, but it was a broken Earth. By the time he was born, oil had peaked and the new technologies were struggling to keep up. Two hundred kilometers on either side of the equator were uninhabitable. Citizens fled for cooler climates where food would actually grow. People died in the hundreds of thousands from drought, famine, disease. Mass extinctions happened monthly. Every day, every new catastrophe brought the planet closer to chaos.

  Sarka was thirteen when the resource wars started. When he was sixteen he paid a man to hack into the national database to change his age to eighteen and enlisted. After the wars he had nowhere to belong. The military as he knew it had no use for him as a soldier, and the colonies were afraid of the Burrs, afraid the tech would malfunction. So they were left on Zeta, a remote asteroid, to fend for themselves. Is it surprising they rose up against this injustice?

  My mom never said it excused his behavior, but it went a long way to understanding it. I don’t think she condoned what they did, but she couldn’t side with the Union on the matter either. The Burrs should’ve been reintegrated into the early colonies with programs. But everyone was struggling to build the first settlements and establish a rule of law. There was no room for them, so they were abandoned and forgotten until Sarka led a revolt to free them from Zeta. He united the Burrs in a common cause, the destruction of the Union. And now he’s trying to do it again.

  “And how does this help us escape?”

  “One of the men I’ve been talking to said he’d take us back to the Persephone. For a price.” He waves this detail off. “But nothing we couldn’t afford.”

  “And you’d be willing to go back to the Persephone?”

  “I’d be willing to swing by the Persephone and drop you off. My pilot and I would carry on.”

  “Ah, so this is really a way for you to escape. I’m lucky you’ll let me tag along.” Plus, he gets the bonus of leaving this place in chaos.

  “I could very easily leave you here to deal with the crazies.”

  And he’d do it too. I grab my tray and stand to leave. “Go to hell.”

  “If you’re out of the planning, you’re out of the rescue effort.”

  “Fine by me. There’s no way—” I smack my tray back down. “You’re reckless. You never think of anyone but yourself. Go ahead. It’ll never work. You’ll never get enough people to bring this place down, let alone escape from it.”

  “Ye of little faith.” He grins and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth. To him this is a game. He doesn’t give a shit if people die because of his actions.

  I storm off like a five-year-old and jam my full tray in the composter. My stomach rumbles as the lid slams shut. That’s the last food I’ll see until tomorrow at the midmorning meal. Usually I wouldn’t mind missing a meal, but here you need every bit of energy you can get.

  There’s still a few hours before lights out, so I wander the corridors. I don’t know what it is about my father, but he can goad me like no one else. Maybe Ash. She gets under my skin, but in a different way.

  I find a lift and exit on the walkway. The stars fill the glass expanse. I rest my forehead against the clear surface and stare out at the millions of stars on the horizon. I wish I could know for sure that I’d see her again, that this would all work out. It’s the not knowing that’s the worst. I keep replaying that moment on the Persephone. Why didn’t she come for me? The Ash I know wouldn’t let anything stop her. Forget safety or what’s best, she would’ve done what she wanted. That’s the irrational side talking, because I know she would’ve saved me if she could. I can only assume she’s doing everything she can to find us. In the meantime, I need to find a way off this ship. Sarka’s crazy if he thinks his big showy revolt will get results. But he has the right idea about finding someone to pilot us out of here. Maybe we can bribe one of the pilots? We don’t need a revolt for that.

  I stroll to the other side of the walkway. Halfway there I feel a buzzing throughout my body. By the time I get to the other side I’m ready to explode. I drop to my knees and grab my head. The pain is unbearable. Someone grabs my arm and drags me back down the hall. The farther we move from the door, the less my head hurts. By the time we reach the other side I can open my eyes.

  The person dragging me is Veera, the woman from our briefing a few weeks ago. For someone who stands only thirty centimeters she’s sure as hell strong. She bares her pointed teeth at me.

  “Didn’t they warn you?” She points to my arm. “That thing in your arm isn’t only a tracker. It stops you from going into off-limits areas of the ship.”

  I rub the spot on my arm where there’s still a crescent-moon scar. It’s faint now, only a shy reminder of what lurks beneath the skin. I wonder if it will disappear altogether one day, in hopes that I’ll forget it’s there. It doesn’t help to have your prisoners feel like prisoners. “No, they didn’t.” She steps to the side as I stand. But once I’m standing I realize it’s harder to see her. She only reaches to my knees.

  “Well, the training area is off-limits after hours. People used to go down there and try to rig the tests, thinking no one would notice. Now we just keep people out. Saves us all the headache.”

  I laugh. Not everyone.

  She blinks up at me. Her face is all eyes, big black eyes. I’m reminded of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, minus the whiskers. “I remember you. You came in with that big gentleman, the one with the strange face.”

  “That’s right. Do you guys get a lot of new recruits?”

  “Used to. But not a lot to choose from these days. Those who know about us stay away, and everyone else has already been recruited to the cause.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  Veera gestures toward the lift. I follow, slowing my pace
to match hers. “Twenty years or so. I know what you’re going to ask next. And the answer is no, I don’t miss home. Don’t miss my family. Don’t have either, so this is both my home and family now.” When we reach the lift, she does an impressive jump to reach the controls. The doors open, and I wait for her to enter so I don’t accidentally step on her.

  She watches me with shrewd eyes as the lift moves through the ship. She’s pressed the deck that will take me back to my bunk.

  “Can I give you some advice?” she asks. “Watch your step. You may not want to be here, but there are worse places to be in this galaxy. The Varbaja take care of their own. The second they think you’re not one of them, they’ll kill you.”

  “So fight and maybe die or don’t and definitely die.”

  “The last combat mission we had was many years ago. Mostly we take care of each other.”

  Over the last few weeks I’ve seen how they take care of each other, and I’d rather be back on the Persephone. If there isn’t a fight in the games room, then there’s one in the mess. People who spend their whole lives beating the shit out of each other for practice know how to relate to each other only with violence after hours. This is not my idea of a family.

  Veera places a hand on my calf. “It gets better. Trust me, but you don’t want to get into trouble here.”

  The way she’s going on I worry she might know something. Sarka’s not exactly subtle, and I’ll be condemned by association.

  The doors to the lift open on my deck. Before I exit she says, “Is it worth it?”

  I don’t pretend to misunderstand her. In that one knowing look she’s said everything. Is what I want to return to worth giving all this up, worth my life? I think of Ash. Her stubbornness, her laugh, that look she gets in her eyes when she’s persuading me to do something I know is against my better judgment. I think of the Persephone and my crew and the thrill of being in command, being out in space on one adventure after another. There is no question. No doubt.

  “Yes.”

  She nods and the doors close.

  As I lie down in my cramped bunk, I know I have to get off this ship. I have to return to Ash and the Persephone. I also know I’ve set something in motion that won’t be stopped now. I have no idea what Veera will do now that she is aware I want to leave, which means time is running out.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ash

  “He’s stable. That’s about all I can tell you,” Dr. Prashad says.

  I’m pacing in front of the doctor as he runs scans over Hartley. Dan Foer and all his massive girth is pacing opposite. We had to bring Hartley to the medical center on the Kudo. We still won’t have access to the Persephone until we get the main computer fully connected.

  “What’s wrong with him? Does he have what they have?” I lower my voice so the Kudo’s medical staff doesn’t hear me.

  Dr. Prashad spreads his hands. “I have no idea until I run more tests. I’ve sent Chloe to the Persephone to get a few instruments that will help me. Their technology is impressive, but I’m still not comfortable with some of their devices. I’d rather have my own.”

  I don’t want to push, but seeing Hartley pale and quiet causes my anxiety to peak. “How long until you know more?”

  The doctor shrugs. “Ash, you know I can’t give you absolutes.”

  “Would it help if we could get you back on the Persephone? If we get it up and running, would that help?” I turn to Foer. “How long until we can turn on the main computer?”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but that’s not going to happen. Not without Hartley it’s not.”

  “What do you mean? You can’t do the final initialization?” Does Hartley do everything in that department?

  Foer licks his lips and ducks his head. “Turning on the computer isn’t the problem. It’s the access codes.” He takes a moment, and I’m not going to like whatever he’s going to say. “The access codes were never restored. And you never took charge of the Persephone officially. So…” He’s talking about when Jordan had Hartley set up backdoor codes, which means the only people who know these codes are Jordan and Hartley.

  “So without Hartley, we have no way of programming the new computer to take our commands.”

  “Exactly.”

  I turn away from the group and survey the medical center with my hands on my hips. It’s pristine. White and sterile. It says reliability and professionalism with every piece of equipment and red-coated medical officer hustling through the large room. We’re tucked to the side, away from the rest of their personnel. There are more doctors than patients. We haven’t nailed down the number of illya on board, but six doctors is too many.

  Dr. Prashad places a hand on my arm. “Why do we need to get back to the Persephone so badly? We’re not in any danger here. The illya have been nothing but hospitable.”

  “And their ship is much much faster than ours. Like thousands of times faster,” Foer says.

  “We’re heading toward the Posterus, and they’re searching for Captain Kellow as we go, so why don’t we take one thing at a time? Let’s focus on finding out what’s wrong with Hartley. The Persephone can wait,” Dr. Prashad says.

  I grip Hartley’s hand. If I don’t have something to focus on, I’ll obsess. The work on the Persephone is the only thing keeping me from worrying about Jordan. But they’re right. It would take years to search for Jordan with the Persephone, and by that point she would be dead. If she isn’t already. I haven’t let myself go there yet. But the possibility is hovering in the background all the time. Keeping busy is the only thing that stops it from crowding my thoughts. They say you can feel if someone you love is alive or dead, but I don’t believe that. I don’t feel anything. In fact, I feel numb.

  “Okay, Doctor, keep me posted. Foer, you’re with me. I want to talk to Gadzir about hacking back into our system without the access codes.” Just in case. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, but if Hartley doesn’t ever wake up again, we’re going to need a backup plan to establish control of the ship.

  I take one last look at Hartley before leaving. The first time I met him he was brash and arrogant. He’s still brash and arrogant, but behind that is an insecure, kind-hearted person who has surprised me with his bravery on more than one occasion. I don’t want to do this without him.

  The one good piece of news I learn is that our access codes are ridiculously easy to hack. That’s not how Gadzir phrased it, but his expression told me as much. Thanks to Foer, I receive a crash course in encryption technology. The Persephone uses UES, the Universal Encryption Standard, to encrypt all our data and ship functions. That means we use a secure hash algorithm first designed in the late twentieth century and improved over the centuries. It’s based on a symmetric block cipher that, according to Gadzir, is an antiquated way to encrypt data. They’ve been using DNA cryptography for centuries. As Foer explained, it’s easier for them since they use molecular biology hardware instead of silicon-based hardware.

  “Actually, we’re going to have to find something that will integrate with the Persephone. We have to dumb down their technology to fit.”

  I raise my eyebrows. I’ve never heard of the Persephone referred to as antiquated. She may be old, but her engines and computer system were first-rate when we set out on this mission. “Are you saying the Persephone isn’t good enough?”

  “No. I’m saying it would be like trying to repair a Model T with our current technology. It can be done, but we’ll have to improvise.”

  “Model T?”

  “One of the first cars ever invented.” He grins. “I have a thing for ancient engines. I once recreated a two-stroke kerosene engine when I was a kid. Of course I couldn’t test it because we don’t have kerosene. But it was pretty cool anyway.” No wonder Hartley and he get along so well. They both speak geek.

  “What’s the timeline on this?”

  Foer turns to Gadzir, who shrugs. “I haven’t seen your engine room, so I can’t make an assumption.”
>
  “But it’s your computer that we’ll be interfacing with.”

  He shakes his head. “Hartley supplied the specifications for us. We’ve never used quantum-computing technology. We may have built the computer using our components, but its use is unknown to me. Foer will have to show me how it works before I can estimate how long it will take to access the command functions on your ship.”

  “Foer, can you show him what he needs on the Persephone?”

  He nods and Gadzir smiles. “This should be fascinating. I’m always interested in learning primitive modes of transportation.”

  “Excellent,” I say. His grin grows wider, my sarcasm lost on him.

  With nothing to do myself, I go in search of Captain Kalve. I want to see how the search for Jordan is going. If they’d found anything I would be the first person to know, but I need to do something. I find him on the bridge. Their ship is starting the morning shift. Over the last few weeks I’ve converted to their time, despite my best intentions. They have a thirty-eight-hour day as opposed to our twenty-four-hour day. I guess up here it doesn’t matter, because we based our original day on Earth’s sun rotation. But we got used to it, so why change now?

  He invites me into his office, which is on the lower deck of the bridge. There’s not much to it: a desk, a huge window, and a small cot in case he wants to sleep but still be close by. On the Persephone Jordan’s office and cabin are one and the same. Her room is located next to the bridge, so she’s never far from her command post. Another reason being in command sucks. That need to constantly be on is stressful. And even though my position is almost always a precursor to command, we have very different tasks. I maintain the crew and assignments while she handles ship operations. All decisions, including mine, go through her before they’re approved. That’s a lot of forms to sign.