by J. S. Morin
“No shit,” Tanny said. “We might have to fight them, at least show them we’re a threat.” She let the group pass her as she scanned the debris for anything that might serve as a weapon.
“We won’t forget you,” Charlie said, not pausing.
That was enough to get Tanny moving once more.
Whether some part of Carl had rubbed off on her, or a similarity in personality had drawn them together, she shared the captain’s penchant for saying just the right thing to goad someone. Tanny was in command of this expedition, yet Charlie called all the shots. Considering that she knew the ship inside out, Esper was glad to be following her just then.
Yet at the same time, Tanny had a point. There was no way those monsters in the darkness weren’t going to catch up with them before they reached the entrance. And even then, who was to say that whatever they were, they wouldn’t just follow them onto the mountainside. Without the close quarters to limit the fight to one direction, they might be overwhelmed.
“Tanny, help Rhi,” Esper said.
Disentangling herself from Rhiannon, she passed her on to Tanny for aid. It was time for her to take Mort’s lessons on acting like a mysterious wizard to heart. Unfortunately, aside from a trick here or there, most of her magic only affected her own body. The prospects of fighting whatever lay in the darkness using only her bare hands sounded insane. That left the contents of Mort’s pack.
“Hey, keep it moving with the light!” Charlie shouted.
“Hold on,” Esper said, opening the pack and peering inside. It was like staring through a shop window, with wares lined up on display shelves. But inside the pack, those shelves were invisible. The contents hung arrayed before her, easily within reach no matter how far off they looked.
“Now!” Charlie shouted even louder. For the first time, Esper heard urgency creep into that stoic monotone.
Esper blocked her out, searching for something they could use. The self-shuffling cards were pointless at the best of times, and a pair of ever-warm mittens was actively unhelpful. Esper didn’t know how to use a soul mirror, and if it had been useful against jungle monsters, Mort probably would have mentioned it. A meditation stone might have done something if the effect was involuntary—but it wasn’t, and monsters growling in the dark probably weren’t seeking inner peace. The singing doll was cute but useless, and it was annoying to listen to.
Annoying. Annoyances could be useful. Esper pulled out the doll and set it on the floor. It didn’t look like much. Factories had been churning out more realistic dolls for centuries. And if it was supposed to be cartoonish, the woodcarver who crafted its features needed to watch better cartoons. The eyes and mouth were too big. The nose just a hint of a bump. Its mop of yellow yarn hair was in need of combing. It wore a frilly pink and white dress of the sort that colonial-era farm girls might have fancied—Esper suspected that the wood carver hadn’t done the sewing, since the dress was well made.
She set the doll on the floor. Despite its tiny shoes, balancing it upright was no trouble at all. “Sing for me.”
“What shall I sing?” the doll asked in a slow, child-like voice.
“Anything. Just sing,” Esper ordered.
“I don’t know what to sing,” the doll replied.
“Quit fooling with that thing,” Tanny ordered. The growling monsters were growing louder. There was a scratching undertone audible now, as well.
Esper ignored her. “Sing every song you know,” Esper said. “Start at the beginning of the alphabet and keep going, loud as you can, and don’t stop.”
This seemed to satisfy the doll. “A-B-C-D-E-F-G… H-I-J-K-LMNOP…” it sang to the tune of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, its lips moving in disturbingly lifelike time with the words, its arms gesturing as if performing on stage.
“All right,” Esper said. She stood and scrambled away, leaving the doll behind.
As they ran, the doll kept singing and the growls grew closer. Esper began to worry that she had cost them all valuable time with her attempt at a diversion. But then the growls changed to snarls, and the scrabble of claws became a frenzy. All the while, the doll continued to sing.
“Now I know my A, B, Cs, next time won’t—”
The singing stopped abruptly, and Esper felt a sudden pang. It wasn’t a real child, but once out of sight, it had sounded like one.
“What are you doing?” Rhiannon demanded.
Tanny had stopped and left Rhiannon to stumble onward unassisted. There was a panel whose edges protruded a few centimeters from the wall, and Tanny pried it open with her fingers. By the light of the arcane mote, the blaster rifles gleamed like new. “Gotta love battleships,” she said with a wicked grin before pressing one of the weapons into Esper’s hands. “Hey, catch.” She tossed one to Charlie, who reacted just in time to cradle the rifle to her chest with a grunt before reorienting to grip it properly.
“What good are these?” Rhiannon said, taking the last one as Tanny finished distributing the weapons.
“We make a stand,” Tanny said. “Or fight a withdrawal action. We can’t outrun these. Esper, can you do Mort’s trick and hold magic back long enough for us to use these?”
“I can try,” Esper said, staring down at the weapon in her hands. She’d never shot anything before, and the only time she’d killed had been a horrible accident. By the Lord’s grace, she was still mourning the doll she had sacrificed.
But it was time for focus. Mentally, she cleared her throat. Excuse me? I think things aren’t working quite right around here. I’m pretty sure someone has been fiddling with your laws. Is there any chance we could try putting things back the way they belong? I know, I know, I’m a wizard. But haven’t things gone a teensy bit too far this time?
“It’s not working,” Tanny said. “Fall back. Use them like clubs if you have to.”
The growls were closing in. There couldn’t have been more than a few corners left for them to turn before Esper and the others were overrun.
When Esper didn’t move, Tanny tugged her along by the arm.
There are a lot meaner wizards in the world. If you don’t put things back right this instant, you’re going to lose one of the only ones who ever thinks about your feelings. We could be friends, but I don’t have much time left here.
The mote of light went out.
“Shit,” Charlie swore. “We’re blind.”
“Aim for the noise,” Tanny said. “My rifle’s got a power indicator.”
“Um, mine’s got a line of little red bars,” Rhiannon said. “Anything I need to know to shoot it?”
Tanny grabbed for Rhiannon’s rifle in the dark, with only the faint technological light from the rifle’s indicators to see by. “There. Safety’s off. Just pull the trigger and don’t hit any of us.”
The growls changed. The echoes were gone, and there was no wall or barrier separating them from the onslaught of crazed, doll-murdering monsters.
“Fire!” Tanny ordered.
Blasts of superheated plasma erupted from rifle barrels. By the sudden light, they caught sight of their pursuers. Fangs and glassy eyes gleamed in the red light. The creatures were bearing down with murderous speed.
The shots swerved, slamming into walls and ceiling. A few spiraled and hit the charging creatures. Shots that missed down the corridor dispersed like dandelion fluff on the wind.
“The fuck is going on?” Tanny asked.
“The guns work, but only right here,” Esper said. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up.” In the back of her head, she felt the pressure of the universe’s skepticism. Everything else seems to be working one way, and you’re asking for another, it said. Arguing against a preponderance of local evidence to the contrary was a task better suited to Mort. Esper could only apologize and ask that the universe consider the possibility that it was wrong everywhere else on Ithaca, but not here. She even switched to Latin and thought lawyerish thoughts in the universe’s direction.
But even if the blaster
rifles didn’t mow down the creatures—which seemed to have been Tanny’s hope—it turned them back. Two wounded among them slunk back slowly and took additional shots as Tanny and Charlie kept up the barrage as the creatures retreated. Rhiannon was already feeling her way along the wall, back toward the exit.
“Let’s go, while we’ve got them confused,” Tanny ordered.
Esper let her argument drop, and the mote of light switched back on. The rifle turned inert in her hands, as did everyone else’s. The growls receded but didn’t cease.
It seemed to take twice the time to exit the Odysseus as it had to get to their farthest point inside. When they finally reached the ramshackle bridge that connected to the mountain trail, darkness had fallen.
# # #
The quarters furnished by the marines were better than Carl had imagined. Communal bunks, tent city, and sleeping huddled in a basement bunker had all crossed his mind as possibilities when a marine named MacNulty had been assigned to find them a spot to bunk down. Instead, Carl, Mriy, and Kubu found themselves in a second-story apartment in one of the cubic stone buildings. Though there had been no sign from the outside, portions of the stone wall were transparent from within, forming windows in various geometric shapes. If there was a pattern to them, it eluded Carl—probably something to bring up with Mort the next time he saw him.
The rest of the room was filled with personal effects and improvised furniture. A standard-issue Earth Navy mattress was covered in animal-skin blankets, pelts whose bizarre coloration and unfamiliar shapes suggested that they had been obtained on Ithaca. A table and chair had been lashed together from tree-grass wood, the distinctive green bark—Carl couldn’t think of a term for the grassy exterior surface—still untouched on one side. Rocks, plants, and animal parts had been purposed to fill any gap in creature comforts left where naval supplies ran short.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Carl commented as MacNulty led them inside.
“This house belonged to Private Selvin Yazdi,” MacNulty said solemnly. “Treat it better than this world treated him.” With that, MacNulty departed, leaving the three of them alone.
They remained silent until Mriy gave a nod to indicate that the marine was out of earshot. “I assume you have a plan,” the azrin said. “You don’t intend to abandon the others.”
“Did I sell it?”
Mriy’s ears twitched. “You showed panic, but it vanished quickly. They may think you wished not to appear weak in front of them.”
“Why would Carl not want to be weak in front of the jungle people?” Kubu asked, cocking his head. “Everyone knows Carl is weak. He’s little and doesn’t fight good.”
“Thanks,” Carl muttered. “But we needed them to buy that we were giving up on them; we’re not. Mriy, I need you to take Kubu back and get to the Odysseus crash site as soon as possible. This is a rescue op. I’ll cover for you with the marines, come daybreak. Here. You’re more likely to need this than I am.” He handed over his sword, sheath and all.
“Why not ask for help? The soldiers could—”
“Stop us from leaving,” Carl said. “Best case for them, we’d just get ourselves killed. Worst case, we’d join up with the navy personnel, wherever the hell they are. They wouldn’t want to risk us out there, not when there’s a chance I can be of use to them. If I stay behind, I can cover for you. Besides, we both know I’d only slow you down.”
Kubu nodded. “Yes. You are very slow.”
It was nice to know that his shabby physical conditioning hadn’t gone unnoticed by the ship’s dog. “Just stay hidden until you get out into the jungle, and watch out for whatever has two dozen marines piss-scared to be out there at night.”
Mriy grinned, showing fangs. “Tonight, the darkness should fear us.”
Carl aimed a stern finger at her. “Just don’t kill anyone on your way out. I can keep them on our side, but not if I have to explain dead bodies. Now go find my sister!”
“And Mommy,” Kubu added.
“And Tanny,” Carl agreed with a sigh.
“And Esper,” Kubu said. “And the new lady.”
“GO!”
Mriy whispered something to Kubu that Carl’s human ears weren’t able to catch. But whatever it was, it got Kubu to shut up and follow Mriy from the building. After that, Carl settled in, wondering if he’d be able to sleep a wink. He was still wondering that when dawn peeked through the transparent stone of the windows.
# # #
“Take out the bridge,” Tanny ordered. She was the last to cross the rickety structure of starship flotsam onto solid rock. The mountain that had been such an ordeal to climb was now their sanctuary—if only they could keep the slavering jaws of the creatures in the Odysseus from following them out.
“What if they can jump?” Esper asked. It seemed implausible that they couldn’t. The speed, the ferocity, the aggression, all pointed to beasts more than capable of a four-meter leap. She leveled her blaster rifle at the opening and calmed her mind, prepared to resume her argument over the local laws of physics.
A voice from down the mountainside shouted. “They can.”
Down the switchback path, thirty meters below them, a group of human shapes ascended by starlight. Esper let her mote shift to a better angle and took count: eight, dressed in dark clothing.
“We crashed on this moon a day ago,” Tanny shouted down. “Are you survivors of the Odysseus? We just got chased out of this wreck looking for anyone who might still be alive on the ship.”
“We know,” the voice shouted back. “We saw the streak in the sky when you crashed, and your light on board the wreck. You’re lucky to get out of there. Is there anyone still inside?”
“None of ours,” Tanny replied. “It’s just the four of us who came to search. What were those things?”
The figures below continued to climb. The conversation grew less like shouting with each exchange. “We can explain on the way; you’ll camp with us. First we’ve got to make sure those noctedents don’t get brave.”
“Night teeth?” Esper asked, recognizing the Latin roots.
That drew a chuckle. “Yeah, the Lieutenant named ‘em. She figured we oughtta have proper names for the critters on this rock. The zealots just call ‘em growlers.”
“Apt,” Charlie said. “By the way, you wouldn’t be Ensign Niang, would you?”
“Sweet season of sunflowers! Scarecrow?” Ensign Niang asked. “How in God’s Black Ocean you end up out here? We gave you Typhoon jockeys up for dusted.”
“You know this guy?” Rhiannon whispered.
“One of my mechanics,” Charlie replied softly. She headed down the mountain path to greet her old acquaintance. “Been looking for years, Jean; never thought I’d see that lopsided face of yours again. Good thing you sound the same as ever. Never would’ve picked you out by your flatpic with that caveman beard.”
Ensign Niang smiled. “No time to chatter,” he said. “Cook ‘er up, boys!”
Two of the ensign’s companions lobbed oblong projectiles into the jagged hole that served as entrance to the derelict vessel. As each impacted, it burst into a gout of flame that continued to burn. “That’ll hold ‘em back a while if they were meaning to come out and play. Meanwhile, let’s skedaddle.” Ensign Niang wove through his own men to take the lead on the way down the mountain.
Esper, Tanny, Rhiannon, and Charlie all skedaddled along with them.
# # #
With an off-key clank, Roddy’s 28.5mm wrench clattered to the floor of the engine room. “Hey Nostradamus, how about a little science. Shit don’t even sound right when it breaks down here.” He needed another beer, and he needed a piss even worse. But the waste recycling system was as dead as everything else not being actively kept on hospice care by Mort, and he dreaded overloading the basin.
“Haven’t we done enough for one day?” Mort asked. There was a weariness in his voice that made him sound ancient. “It’ll all still be broken in the morning.”
&nbs
p; “That’s the point, right?” Roddy asked, popping the top of a warm can of Earth’s Preferred. Much as he tried to maintain a proper temperature for storing them, they tasted the same nearly frozen, room temperature, or damn near boiling. “I don’t get this shit fixed, no one will. If no one fixes this heap, we don’t get off this miserable rock. And if we don’t do something soon, I’m gonna run out of booze.”
“Oh really?” Mort asked, raising an eyebrow.
Roddy wasn’t in the mood for this crap. “Yeah, really. You think I got an infinite supply? You think I can build a brewery when you can’t even keep a goddamn hammer working for five minutes at a time? Listen, I dried out for that fucking race contest for a chance to work on some of the sweetest machinery you can fly, and it damn near killed me. The day I fell back in the bucket was the best day I’ve had all year. You want to be around me the day I decide I can’t take it anymore, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”
Mort snorted. “You’ll live.”
“No, I’ll put a fucking bullet in my head,” Roddy said. “And if that relic of a pistol can’t scrape together enough of a blast to do the job, I’ll use a hammer.”
“Thought you said your hammer wasn’t working.”
The wrench went flying as Roddy kicked it, spinning across the engine room floor to clank against a wall. “You think this is funny? I’m busting my sack to get us out of here, and you’re cracking jokes.”
Mort set down the deck of cards he was idly shuffling. “You think you’re the only one working here? Confound you! I’m holding back the very fabric of the universe, taking this twisted localized mess of gibbering nonsense and smoothing it back to how I remember it. I don’t even like the laws of physics, but I’m thinking my mind flat arguing their case. Imagine you giving a lecture on temperance to a room of drunkards like yourself. You agree with every argument they make against you. And yet for hour upon soul-smothering hour you plead your case while someone—oh, let’s call it Esper—comes down on you like the hammer of Hephaestus every time the unruly mob gets a word in edgewise.”