by C. Gockel
Carl sighed but wiggled out of Sixty’s grasp and walked back to the bow of the ship on four legs. “I’m beginning to hate these ice balls.”
Volka yawned. “Only beginning to? How long has it been since we came here?”
Bracelet answered before 6T9 could answer. “It has been six hours, Miss Volka.”
Volka and Carl groaned in unison.
“This moon looks like a big fat potato,” Volka said. “The crater there is where someone cut out an eye.” Her ears went forward and she tilted her head. “That’s weird.”
“Not really,” said 6T9. “Its radius is only ten kilometers. The shape isn’t unusual for objects of this size. And with the number of asteroids in this system, craters are—”
“Check your tablet, 6T9,” Carl commanded. “Something is wrong.”
Circuits sparking, 6T9 checked the tablet through the ether. “I’m not detecting any radio signals.” The moon was like most of the others they’d seen: gray, pockmarked, icy. It was definitely potato shaped, and the crater was unusually deep. The light reflecting from O7 was enough to light the crater’s depths, and it was visibly empty. 6T9 sat up, drawing information on O7, and this particular moon: O7M1. The closest to the planet at 80,000 kilometers, it was being barraged with O7’s radiation. Pirate outposts generally weren’t well shielded from radiation—but pirates weren’t particularly concerned with long term health effects. Since he saw no vessels, the point was moot though.
“Taking us in a little closer,” Carl said.
6T9 saw nothing...and then the space between them and the crater exploded in phaser fire. Swinging Carl into his arms, 6T9 crouched between the incoming fire, Volka, and the werfle before his Q-comm had a chance to process what was happening.
“It’s just phaser fire,” Volka said. “Sundancer is fine.”
Would a new body have such an instinctive desire to protect sentient life? Panting to show that he was startled—and not for air—he looked over his shoulder. Phaser fire was erupting with such force around them, it was difficult to see.
He blinked, and a ship passed over their heads. Sixty stared into the crater, and just for a moment he saw a slender, coppery loop, about fifty meters wide. Another ship emerged from the circle, and the loop vanished again, probably hidden with holo tech. “That’s a time gate!” 6T9 exclaimed.
“They are not happy we found it,” Carl said.
“Can you talk to the gate, Sixty?” Volka asked.
Sixty’s Q-comm surged with data, analyzing the loop from the brief glimpse he’d just seen. He shook his head. “It’s not sentient. It’s as dumb as bra—”
“Don’t you dare say Bracelet!” Volka said, holding a hand protectively over the device.
“A Brazilian terrier,” he ad libbed.
“Little ankle biters,” Carl grumbled.
“—it only goes to one location, so doesn’t need the normal amount of computing power,” 6T9 finished.
Fire erupted around the ship. “You’re transmitting this to Isssh?” 6T9 asked.
“Already done,” said Carl. “Good instincts, 6T9! You found it.”
Eyes roving the hull, now bathed in a phaser-fight show, 6T9 replied, “Technically, you did, and the closest thing I have to ‘instincts’ are all related to reprod—”
“If we know where the gate goes, we’ll know where Alexis is!” Volka exclaimed.
6T9 winced. “Unfortunately, I can’t hack into that computer. Our best bet is to wait for the Guard to arrive and hope they capture the ships that are giving us such a pretty show.” The beams flared into beautiful blooms of oranges and yellows on contact with the ship, and he was beginning to enjoy it. “And that the Guard can extract the location from captives.”
Sundancer rolled as though she enjoyed being fired upon and wanted to be sure they caught every single spot. His Q-comm sparked. Considering her bath in lava, she likely did enjoy it. He found himself smiling. Even if he couldn’t feel the ship’s emotions, he was enjoying imagining them. His Q-comm hummed.
“That will take too long,” Volka protested.
“Well, we don’t really have a choice,” 6T9 said.
“We have a magical spaceship,” Volka said, and 6T9’s attention caught on the very same words Mr. Darmadi had used. Nostrils flaring, Volka closed her eyes.
“It’s worth a try,” Carl said, hopping into her lap and settling down.
6T9 looked sharply at the werfle. Carl had also closed his eyes.
The loop flashed visible, and another ship emerged. Instead of phasers, something dark and solid hurtled toward Sundancer. Volka cried out. Carl whimpered. Before 6T9 could identify the object, and just before it hit her hull, Sundancer, Carl, Volka, and 6T9 all became light.
There was shouting, not in the warehouse, but from outside of it. Alexis heard, “Under attack” and “the Luddie Gate,” but then came the whine of engines, and through the hole in the ceiling she saw ragged fighters take off. Was the Guard coming for her?
She heard two pairs of footsteps in the warehouse. Heavy enough to be men, one shuffling, the other steady, but unhurried. She went to sit on her cot, and then she heard Molest’s voice and her stomach seized. “You sure you feeling better, Galt?”
“Yes,” the man who must be Galt replied. “We can release the captives and have them do our chores.”
“We haven’t broken these ones in yet,” Molest replied.
“The fever has changed them,” Galt said. “They will do the chores, not complain, and be grateful for the opportunity.”
“Huh…Well, I’ll just watch them if you don’t mind,” Molest said.
Alexis heard the click of a key in a lock, and then the clink of metal hitting stone—perhaps.
“Fuck, you’re quiet,” Molest said, so close Alexis almost thought he was talking to her. But then he continued, “Usually you don’t shut up, Galt.”
“Don’t need to talk,” said Galt. There was another click and the clink. And then Galt said, “The prisoner isn’t drinking.”
Alexis swallowed even though her mouth was dry.
She heard shuffling footsteps coming her way, and then another man appeared between her curtains. He was older than Molest, similarly dressed, but neater and cleaner. “You will drink,” he said, shuffling into her room and picking up the bowl.
Alexis’s heart rate picked up and her body went cold, even in the heat of the warehouse. The water frightened her more than Molest’s threat of rape. Maybe it was the unknown of it—would a splash on her skin make her sick, or did it need to get into her eyes or nose?
Rising, gripping her chain and pulling back as far as she could, she put the mat between her and Galt. “I will not touch that sludge.” She heard soft footsteps behind her and small hands pushed her forward. “You must,” said Will.
Galt approached her. “You will.”
Alexis sealed her lips and tried to slip away from Will. She kept her eye on the bowl, though, determined to knock it from Galt’s hands. He stepped on her mat. Will pushed her forward. The bowl was within an arm's length of her lips; she readied to strike—
Molest was there first. He knocked the bowl from Galt’s hands, and it arced through the air and collided with the only solid wall, the contents spattering the floor and edge of the mattress. “Nuh-uh, Galt,” Molest said. “That stuff could be what made everyone sick.”
“They’re better now,” Galt said, his voice flat.
“Three of them died!” Molest retorted, his face flushing.
“Only the weak ones,” Galt replied.
“If she dies, we don’t get the ransom money,” Molest shouted. “You keep that shit away from her!”
Galt stared at him a moment, and then shrugged and left the room. Alexis heard the click of the key and the clunk of a shackle. She kept her eyes on Molest. The man was chewing on something, his eyes on Galt, a scowl on his face. He turned suddenly, but his eyes went to Will, not Alexis. “What are you doing here? Get out!” He shouted at the
child.
Will hurried out.
It was only then that Molest paid any attention to her. Smirking, he said, “You got me alone, Honey! Just what you always wanted!” His expression soured, and he muttered, “Too bad. I better go watch that idiot.” She was left alone.
She heard the release of the other prisoners and their shuffling feet as they left the warehouse. No one said a word, except for Galt and Molest. At one point, she heard Galt say, “You should drink, too.” And Molest reply, “You know I only drink whiskey, Galt. Get that stinking flask out of my face.” And then their voices faded away. She went to the edge of the curtain and peered out. Will was sitting on a pallet nearby. For a moment, she scowled and her skin heated, remembering him pushing her toward Galt. But the boy was staring at nothing in a way completely unnatural for a child. Something was wrong with him, and in any event, he was a child and couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.
She heard more shouting outside and whispered, “Will, what is happening?”
Rising, he came toward her. “A universe breaker ship discovered the time gate to this world.”
“Time gate?” Alexis gasped. But of course, there had to have been one. This world had breathable air and it wasn’t Libertas or Luddeccea. They must have come through a gate—but that would mean there was a gate hidden within the Luddeccean System.
“Don’t worry,” Will said. “The universe breaker did not pass through the gate. We do not believe it will find us here, though we’ve never had a time gate before and cannot say for certain.” He scowled and stared at the floor, tilting his head.
“Universe breaker?” Alexis murmured, putting a hand to her throat.
Will’s head jerked up and he hissed, “The ship! Universe breakers are useless to us. They will not let us break through the universe. They defied us. We eliminated all but one, but we will eliminate it, too.”
Alexis gaped, not knowing what to make of his gibberish.
His expression became serene again. “Would you like some water?”
26
Lilies of the Field
Uncharted Space
“Volka, Carl? Are you there?”
Sixty’s voice jolted Volka from her silent plea to Sundancer. She opened her eyes and saw Sixty leaning close. The hull of the ship was transparent again. They were on the nightside of a planet, perhaps one hundred meters from the ground. Above them was a sky equally filled with stars, two moons, and clouds. She blinked past Carl, asleep in her lap, to the world beneath them. “It looks like a jungle.” She tilted her head. “With giant tulips instead of trees. Do you know where we are, Sixty?”
He smiled grimly. Even a grim smile made the dimple in his left cheek appear, and Volka’s eyes were drawn to it. “There are no worlds with giant tulips in any publicly accessible database.” Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Is this the place, or is Sundancer hiding from the Dark?”
Volka’s brow furrowed, remembering the stab of wrongness she’d felt just moments ago. “I felt the Dark, but not anymore. I know Sundancer wanted to take us to the right place…but I don’t understand what she showed me.”
“What did she show you?” Sixty asked.
What she had seen had felt immense and important, but what did a feeling mean? She should try to describe what she saw, not what she felt. “A...a dust bunny of lights,” she replied. “There were strings, but they had stuff on them, if that makes sense. And then it turned inside out, and the pirate ship shot through and Sundancer followed, and then it turned back round again.”
As soon as she said the words, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. Her ears curled. Sundancer was strong enough to telepathically transmit visions to humans…They should have convinced one of the intelligence officers to come with them or even one of the Marines—one of them was bound to have agreed despite it breaking orders, just for the thrill of it, if Volka had staged it as a kidnapping…or something. They’d know what Volka had seen.
Sixty’s face became expressionless and his eyes vacant.
Ashamed of her inability to articulate what she saw, she apologized. “I’m sorry, that’s stupid.”
Sixty’s body jerked, and his eyes came into focus. “What? No, Volka, don’t say that.” His left hand smoothed down her ear, and even though her stomach still felt weak, she wanted to lean into the touch. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. The hand withdrew. Sixty cleared his throat. “May I access Bracelet? I think I know what you saw.”
Opening her eyes, she nodded and held up her wrist. Light sprung from Bracelet and took the shape of a loose dust bunny with rough strings that had clusters of light attached to them…like clumps of dirt, but pretty. “That is it! Or very like it. I don’t remember the precise shape. What is it?”
“The universe,” Sixty replied. “Did it turn inside out like this?”
The dust bunny ball became a dust-bunny donut. Tilting her head, Volka said, “Yes, sort of…” Sundancer’s imagery hadn’t been so neatly symmetrical.
“Time gates work by leaving time,” Sixty explained.
Volka nodded. She knew a little about that. Even ships that traveled near lightspeed created “bubbles” in time. The bubbles weren’t strong enough to allow them to travel instantaneously like a gate, but they were strong enough for ships to approach lightspeed—something that even she knew early physicists had thought would be impossible.
“I think Sundancer was showing you the ship’s trip through time…or her own,” Sixty said. “And where she returned.”
“Oh,” said Volka. She grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to hope she took the right exit on the interstate!”
Sixty didn’t laugh.
Volka’s ears folded, and her grin faded.
But then one of his eyes closed; the other went wide. “That is a very old historical reference. I had to dig deep into my databanks to get that one.”
Her grin returned. “The premier says the interstate between New Prime and the Northwest Province is a modern marvel.”
He smirked and his dimple came back. “I’m so outdated.”
They stared at each other a beat too long. And then, craning his neck upward, Sixty said, “I need to figure out where we are. In the event that we are where we need to be, we need to get word to the Guard. It will be difficult with the clouds.” Standing, he shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m working with the Guard, or that they’re working with me. Give me a few minutes…and check on Carl.”
As if to punctuate his words, from Volka’s lap came a long snore, a wiggle, and a lip smack. Carl had flipped onto his back. There was a toothy, werflish smile on his face. He snored again and scratched the left side of his belly.
Focusing, Volka sent a telepathic poke to the werfle. “Carl, what are you dreaming about?” she thought. She got no response. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and felt the question instead. Opening her eyes, she found herself standing in a forest. It seemed almost tropical; the trees had enormous leaves and enormous flowers. The trunks were strange and they were thick—nearly as wide as her waist—but didn’t have bark. Also—and this was very strange—she had a wonderful, warm, wet sensation creeping up her feet. Stranger still, she knew in a few hours an even more wonderful sensation would fill her hands and arms. Her fingers clenched, imagining it. Curious, she looked down to see the source of the first sensation, but she didn’t see feet, she saw roots coiling into dark, black earth. Raising her gaze, she found her arms were the strange, long, wide leaves she’d just seen. “Carl!” her startled mind called out. A flower near her broke into a gorgeous red bloom, and in her heart, she felt Carl’s words. “Isn’t it wonderful, Volka? This is what it feels like to be a plant. You just eat all the time—from the dirt at night and from the sun during the day! And nebulas, Volka, when a bit of my pollen released a few minutes ago, it was sex, Volka. Pure sex. If only I could be caught in a breeze.” The bloom closed and opened again. “Next life, Volka—or maybe not next life; I’ll wait for you to die�
��but then I’m going to be a plant. Even the silicon guys don’t have it so good! The heights of laziness I could achieve!”
The old Volka might have bolted right out of such an extraordinary daydream, but the new Volka stared down at herself in wonder, and then at the plant that might be Carl. His crimson bloom was gold at the center, and the edges of the petals were whimsically frayed in a triangular sort of pattern. “Am I as pretty as you are?” she asked with feigned coyness.
“No,” the werfle replied, “not even as a flower. But you’re not bad looking. If my pollen landed on your stigma, I would not be disappointed.”
Volka’s snort snapped herself from the daydream. Sixty was staring at her from the bow with wide, startled eyes. She remembered she had a mission. “Carl’s fine. I’ll get him,” she said. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift back into the dream and found herself staring at the crimson bloom. “Carl, are we at the right place? There aren’t any pirates that I can see.”
“That’s because they’re just over the horizon,” Carl said. “About 3.75 kilometers away. This planet is smaller. The gravity is considerably weaker than standard G, which is probably why we can grow so tall without rigid trunks.” The flower flexed as though to accentuate that, which might have been quite comical if the larger situation hadn’t been so serious. Lives were in danger. She remembered her own encounter with the pirates of the Copperhead. The dream of being a flower popped like a balloon. She was back in her body and mind on Sundancer’s bridge.
She took a deep breath. Just because the pirates were here didn’t mean their job was done.
“Is Alexis here, too?” she whispered, afraid to know the answer. Afraid it would be no and afraid it would be yes, and she’d have to act.
Yawning, Carl flexed his claws. “Yep, Sundancer brought us just out of sight of the place she’s being held.”