Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  That answered the question of why the alien felt safe to wake us up all on its own, anyway. We apparently couldn’t touch it if we tried.

  One by one it went like that, as far and farther down the line than I could easily see. Maja kept trying to rouse her mother, to no avail. Everyone who woke had the same questions, remembered succumbing on the bridge of the ship, and then nothing. We all had the same hard greenish sheath on our left arms, covering our chip implants and making communication via them impossible. Baden Methyr, Paixon’s husband—Gramps, as I thought of him—and the Protectorate officer Yuskeya all had their datapads in their cells with them, for all the good they did them. The devices were standalone functional, but couldn’t establish a connection to the Tane Ikai’s comm.

  “Why would they leave us these?” Hirin said.

  Rei answered him. “They probably know they’re harmless—I mean, you couldn’t even hit someone with one and leave much of a dent.”

  “Looks like they brought along anything we had with us,” Hirin agreed. “Maybe they don’t know what they do.”

  “I think we have to assume they understand a lot,” Maja said, gesturing to her encased arm. “They made sure we’re cut off from outside communication.”

  Viss tapped his sheathed arm against one of the cell bars. It made only a dull thud, not the sharp sound I expected. “Hey, look at that,” he said. He repeated the motion, harder this time. “The material softens on impact, absorbing the energy. Then it solidifies again right away.”

  “So you could hit someone with it, but it wouldn’t hurt them?” Maja asked.

  The engineer sounded glum when he answered. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  The alien paid no apparent attention to the discussions between the prisoners. I casually slid a hand in my pocket and rubbed the cool metal of the multi-tool the aliens hadn’t bothered to take away from me. Maybe they’d left it on purpose—it wasn’t much of a weapon, to be sure—or maybe they’d missed it. Either way, I kept my mouth shut about it.

  The Erian pilot, Rei, was in the cell beyond Viss. There was some mild scuffle when she was awakened as well, but after she’d recovered from the initial disorientation, she said, “Where’s Cerevare?”

  Maja turned from her fixation on the Captain and peered down the lines of cells. “She’s not here. I thought she must be in that cell beyond Gerazan—”

  Yuskeya was at the secured door of her cell. “No, that one’s empty,” she confirmed. “Cerevare’s not here.”

  “Was she here when they woke you, Sord?” she asked me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I assumed that everyone from the ship was here. If they took her out of here, it was before I was awake.”

  Once Baden, at the end of my row of cells and the last to be woken, had been revived, the alien returned to Paixon’s cell. It stood outside, one hand resting on the door, studying the Captain or thinking or doing something alien and inscrutable. Then it went into her cell again. It appeared to take readings or scans, then returned to the corridor, collected the medical cart, and wheeled it through a doorway and out of sight. A door somewhere beyond opened and closed.

  Maja sagged against the bars of her cell, leaning her head against the cool material. It wasn’t metal, but it had been smooth and slightly chill under my fingers. By this time, I’d investigated my cell thoroughly. The only piece of furniture in it was the cot. There was also a device that seemed to be for the collection of waste, but I didn’t consider that furniture. The rear wall held a gadget that dispensed cold water. I’d also examined the casing on my arm. It appeared to be seamless, but had one small wavy-shaped opening on the underside. I assumed the right sort of key would open it.

  “What did you mean,” she asked finally, “when you said you knew plenty about my mother’s illness?”

  I shrugged. “I knew someone else who had the same thing.”

  “It couldn’t have been the same thing,” she argued. “No-one else—well, hardly anyone else—has the same nanos.”

  “So, maybe not the exact same thing,” I said, shaking my head, “but damned close. Sweats, headaches, nosebleeds, paranoia, irrational anger—and she had nanos in her system, for years. The symptoms came on when the nanos’ programming failed.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, staring at Paixon’s still form. “Who was it?” she asked finally.

  In a weird way, it felt good to tell someone about it after all these years. “My mother.”

  Maja turned to me, a puzzled frown scoring her forehead. “Who are you, Sord?”

  I spoke before I thought about it. “Your grandmother wasn’t the only person who worked for PrimeCorp, you know.”

  She stared at me, still frowning, then her face softened and she asked, “What happened to her? Your mother?”

  I studied Captain Paixon for a long moment. I’d started out wanting to hurt both of these women. I’d wanted to use them to get to Paixon’s own mother, to get a payback that had never been really clear to me and seemed even less clear now. When had things changed? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t say anything for a long moment, but when I did speak, it wasn’t to hurt Maja, or anyone. It was only the truth.

  “She died.”

  THE DOOR DOWN the hallway opened again, and this time two of the aliens came into view. Their uniforms seemed identical to the first one, but one had pale raspberry-coloured skin, and their bone crests showed noticeable variations. The medical cart had been swapped for a wheeled gurney. They stopped outside Captain Paixon’s cell and opened it.

  “What are you doing?” Maja demanded.

  They ignored her. It was pretty obvious to me what they were doing—they were taking the captain out of here.

  Hirin called from down the line of cells. “What’s happening?”

  “They’re taking Mother,” Maja answered, her voice hovering on the edge of hysterical. “Stop! Where are you taking her?”

  But the aliens were clearly not interested in conversing with Maja or anyone else here—or they couldn’t understand a word we were saying anyway. With businesslike efficiency they transferred Paixon to the gurney, lifting her, I noticed, with care. What really caught my attention wasn’t their bedside manner, though. Along with the Captain, they picked up and deposited on the gurney with her . . . a datapad.

  My datapad. Pita.

  If I could get her back, we might have a chance.

  Chapter 30 – Jahelia

  Completely Freneza

  “WE HAVE TO do something,” Maja said again. Frankly, I was getting tired of listening to her. She wasn’t whining, but she wasn’t coming up with any concrete, workable plans, either. She paced her cell like a caged animal, sparking with anger and frustrated energy.

  In the cell next to mine, Viss Feron had prowled and investigated every inch of floor, every bar that formed the walls. I’d sat on my bed, nursing my sore knee and trying to stay calm, and watched him check under the cot, investigate the water dispenser built into the rear wall, and examine the waste-collection device. He was the picture of control, but a muscle worked at the side of his jaw, betraying . . . something. His search apparently yielded nothing of use.

  “We have to get out of here, is what we have to do,” I told Maja. “But I don’t see a way to do that, do you?”

  She glared at me. “You don’t seem to be trying very hard. At least the rest of us have searched the cells. All you do is sit there.”

  “Did any of you find anything useful?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I already looked, when I first woke up. I’m more interested in this: what do you think controls the force fields? Hey, Engineering, did you notice anything when you tried to grab that one and got zapped?”

  Viss eyed me coldly—I suppose I could start calling him by his real name, now we were captives of an alien race together. I’ve never been that good at social etiquette.

  “No,” he said finally. “I don’t know what generated it.”

  “Does any
one else think they might be listening to us?” Yuskeya said from down the corridor. “It might be wise not to let them know everything we’re thinking.”

  I chuckled. “What are we going to do, play a game of mesaĝo? I’ll whisper to Viss, and he can whisper to Rei, who’ll whisper to—”

  “Oh, shut up, Sord. Does everything have to be a joke to you?” I couldn’t see Baden very well through the intervening cells, but his words stung a little. I’d heard him cracking jokes at stressful moments. But oh, no, don’t let the outsider play.

  “Well, let’s put it to the test, shall we?” I said. “The next time one of these aliens comes into my cell, I’ll make a grab for it and see what happens. Viss, you’re close enough to observe, so you can tell us afterward if you notice anything. And if they seem to be taking more precautions the next visit, we’ll know they heard me.”

  “That’s crazy. You don’t know what they’ll do. They might kill you,” Maja said.

  “Well, that’ll be one less thing for you all to worry about.”

  It wasn’t that I felt particularly brave—or suicidal. But I wasn’t prepared to tag along like a little kid, either. If we were going to escape, I wanted a piece of the action. I wouldn’t sit here and wait to be rescued.

  Silence descended then, except for someone having a low-voiced discussion through the bars of their adjoining cells, somewhere down the row. Yuskeya and Baden, maybe. Across the corridor from them, the Protectorate cryptographer sat on his own cot, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed. It was possible he understood some of the language, but if he did, he was keeping it close to his chest. Maybe whatever they’d said troubled him. No, I thought, he’d share it if he knew, with Yuskeya if no-one else. She was technically his commanding officer, so he’d feel bound to report. I figured he must not have had enough time to learn conversational Chron.

  I got to test my theory about the force fields very soon after that. The door to the corridor opened and closed again, and two Chron appeared, pushing a cart. Not the medical one this time, but one that appeared, from the aroma that came with it, to be carrying food. So they didn’t plan to starve us. That was a good thing.

  I stayed seated on the cot, legs dangling, trying to appear relaxed as they stopped outside my cell. I couldn’t tell if either of these was the one who’d originally woken me, but I thought not. There wasn’t much to tell them apart at first glance, but now that I was able to study them from a more detached viewpoint, the variations in the shapes and ridges of their bone crests was easier to see. The chitinous plates on their faces revealed similar deviations in form and colour, subtly distinguishing one from another—once you knew what to look for. I wondered if our appearance was as homogeneous to them.

  Their uniforms were the same plain dark one-piece suits that the first one had worn, with white symbols spilling down one sleeve. Either all those we had seen were males, or the females were flat-chested, like the Lobors. As I watched them, one unloading a food tray while the other did something to release the door, I noticed something else, too. Each wore a small round pin or button of some kind, attached to the fabric of their sleeve, tucked in the crook of the elbow.

  I glanced over at Viss in the next cell. He watched both me and the aliens intently. Surreptitiously, I pointed at the crook of my own elbow. He nodded slightly to indicate that he’d seen, as well.

  “Hola!” I said to the alien cheerily, as it approached me with the tray. The cell had no table or chair, only the cot for furniture. I wondered if the Chron would come close enough to put it down on the cot, or leave it on the floor. “What’s for supper? It smells delicious.”

  The Chron chitter-whistled something at me in response, although I didn’t know if it had understood a word I’d said in Esper. It did come as far as the cot and slid the tray onto the end. Perhaps I’d alleviated its suspicions by speaking to it or not appearing interested in leaving the cot, or maybe it felt more secure with a friend nearby. Whatever the reason, it turned away from me as I’d hoped it would.

  Before it took two steps toward the cell door, I launched myself off the cot and tackled the alien. I landed on its back, my arms around its neck.

  I’ll admit I screamed when the force field lit up. It felt like I’d grabbed a live charging cable on a docking bay floor and plugged it into me instead of into a ship. Brilliant yellow light blazed and the shock raced up both arms, meeting in my chest with a blast that threatened to stop my heart. Somewhere an alarm bleated out a warning. I knew I hadn’t actually touched the Chron—the field had precluded contact, but not the impact. The Chron fell to its knees.

  I slid off the alien, boneless and weak in the wake of the jolt I’d taken. It flipped around to watch me and scuttled crablike to the cell door. Its compatriot helped it to its feet and slammed the door shut once it was outside. They chattered something to me. I ignored it. One of them pressed something on the cart and the alarm stopped. I lay on the floor and panted, waiting for the feeling in my arms to return. I laughed weakly.

  “Hey, Engineering, you notice anything?”

  “Yeah, I noticed you’re crazy, Sord,” he said. “Completely freneza. Another stunt like that and you could get us all killed, not just your own sorry-ass self.”

  But I knew he’d seen what I did when the Chron’s arms had flown up in surprise at my tackle. The little round pin had flared with golden light, too, activated by my proximity. It had to be the controller for the force field. And knowing what controlled it was one step closer to knowing how to disable it.

  THE TWO CHRON continued down the corridor, now only opening the cell doors and slipping the trays inside. They didn’t linger at any of the cells, merely completed their job and left. By the time they got to my cell on their way out, I’d managed to sit up again, leaning my back against the solid rear wall of my cell. The one I’d jumped turned an inscrutable stare on me. I gave a little wave. It turned away without blinking.

  Maja retrieved her supper tray and uncovered it. “Huh,” she said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this food came from the Tane Ikai. We had a good supply of pasta and tomato sauce, and that’s what this is.”

  Viss uncovered his and nodded. “It’s a little hard to believe it’s a classic Chron dish as well.”

  “Do we trust them?” Baden asked from further down the hallway. “Think it’s safe to eat?”

  Hirin said, “I think we can eat it. As Luta said about the Corvids, if they wanted us dead, we’d be dead. I can’t see any point in poisoning us at this point. And I’m starved,” he added. Through the intervening bars I saw him take a bite.

  Well, it did smell good. I crawled over to my cot, pulled myself up, and sat on the edge. My hands still felt slightly numb, but it didn’t seem like the shock had done any permanent damage. My knee, where I’d bashed it into the wall, throbbed like a bastardo, but there was nothing I could do about that. Like the others, my tray held a plate of spaghetti and a shallow bowl filled with the sauce. The cells were quiet as we all ate. I didn’t know how long we’d been unconscious before the Chron had awakened me, but it must have been a while. Hirin was right about being hungry. I ate in a wholly less than ladylike fashion.

  When I was finished, I said, “So, anyone have any theories about where we are?”

  Viss said, “Space station, judging by the curve of that corridor.”

  “That was my thought, too.”

  “Not a ship,” Maja said from across the hall. “There’s no sensation of motion, or engines.”

  “Could be a really, really big ship,” I suggested, but I didn’t really mean it.

  “How far did they bring us?” Baden said. “We didn’t read any stations in the system, did we?”

  Further down the corridor, Yuskeya said, “If it’s on the far side of that planet we saw, we might have missed it.”

  “Fha said something about stealth technology—maybe it was blocked from our sensors somehow,” Maja added.

  “Well, how can we use our ne
wfound knowledge?” I asked, flexing my fingers to ease out the last of the stiffness from the jolt they’d taken.

  “That they don’t seem to be listening to us?” Maja asked.

  “Don’t seem to be,” Yuskeya echoed. “They could be waiting until we say something really interesting.”

  “That’s true,” Hirin mused. “Ms. Sord’s declaration of her intent to attack one of them probably wouldn’t worry them overmuch. They’d know their fields would protect them.”

  “Het, Sord, eike tendu si?” Yuskeya Blue’s voice came to me through the cells between us. Viss turned to me quizzically, then glanced at Blue, frowning. I knew only two people in here would have understood what she said—me and Lieutenant Soto. She’d spoken in what was informally called academy cant, the secret language of the Protectorate. And although I hadn’t finished my Protectorate training, I’d picked up enough to converse at a basic level.

  Hey, Sord, can you understand me?

  Go slow and I can, I told her, the words admittedly hesitant and probably poorly pronounced as I dredged them up from the depths of my brain.

  Baden’s next to me. We both have our datapads. We’re wondering if there’s any way we could use them to—I don’t know—short out one of the force fields. You and he—you’re both techdogs. You think about it too.

  She had to speak slowly, repeating or substituting some words, but eventually I got it. It wasn’t a bad idea. With the cant, we could probably communicate—some of us, anyway—without the Chron understanding if they were listening in. And the datapads . . . we didn’t know much about the tech the Chron were using, but it might be possible . . . if we opened one up and took out the power supply, rerouted the—

  Viss stepped close to the bars that joined our cells and whispered, “What was that about?”