Farthest Reach

by Lauren Moore

  “I brought you out of the sandstorm,” Black said. Black drew her killknife and offered it to Ace. Ace ignored the knife.

  “She ain’t gonna take that,” Van drawled.

  “Why not? It’s Nidian.”

  “It ain’t from her tribe, if you must know,” Van said. “Nidians don’t take killknives from the tribes of others.”

  “Tribe?”

  “Which core world you from?”

  “Childress.”

  “Would you take a flower from Xīngqiú as a gift?”

  “I see.” Black sheathed the blade.

  Ace’s feathers rippled as she shrugged and clacked her beak.

  “You’re gonna leave me here to die?” Black said. “You can’t claim the moral high ground then, Ranger!”

  “There ain’t no more Rangers!” Van snapped.

  “Then take me with you. I want to…” She trailed off.

  “I ain’t looking to take on anyone,” Van said.

  “I can help.”

  “You ain’t going to be in charge.”

  “I am skilled.”

  “Dangerous, more like.”

  “Dangerous enough to be useful.”

  Would he abandon someone, like he’d been abandoned? Like Ace had been? Sonya’s face flashed in his mind. She wouldn’t. I’m not you, Van told the ghost, but then sighed. “I’ll shoot you the second you get out of hand.”

  Black grinned. “I knew you liked me.”

  “Get aboard.”

  “This is not what we signed up for,” Chirp protested.

  “Shut up.” Van hit the ramp button as Black stomped up. “You gotta first name, miss?”

  “It’s Alice.”

  “Nice to meet you, Alice.”

  “You gotta name?”

  “Me? I’m a nobody too. But you can call me Van.”

  Ace warbled.

  “Yes, it’s a lovely lady gun. I’m gonna name it Sonya.”

  THE END

  © Copyright 2019 by Ken Britz

  About the Author

  Ken Britz

  Ken Britz is an engineer, a submariner, and author of the Arthurian themed Pillars of Fire and Light Sci-Fi series and military science fiction.

  He was born and raised in the Midwest. At 19, he enlisted in the United States Navy and was commissioned after graduating from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign with a B.S. in Computer Science. After successful submarine service and a shore tour, he transitioned to the Navy Reserves where he continues to serve as a Commander. He earned an MBA from New York University Stern School of Business and currently works in sales and engineering. He lives in NY.

  His background and love of the SFF genre infuses his work with reality and fantasy in a unique way.

  His latest work is INVISIBLE ENEMY, a new military science fiction novel.

  Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Ken-Britz/e/B06XY41XFG

  Website: https://kenbritz.com

  Door Number One

  Kalene Williams

  Two more seconds.

  Just two more—drip, drip—seconds and Chris would start tearing at the interior of the ship like a madman. His mood oscillated between pissed off and grumpy. Sure, the double pay for the job would be nice, but it came with baggage he woefully regretted.

  Space travel.

  Frank.

  And a wretched stench of sulfur and sweat permeated the air. A week later and he still couldn’t find where it was coming from. Now the incessant dripping wormed its way into him, poking at a nascent migraine.

  “You doin’ okay up there, buddy? I can hear you cursing on my end of the ship.”

  “There’s tape on the pipes. Tape! I’ve been picking at it for three hours, and now I’m finding loose valves.”

  “I’ll trade ya.”

  “You keep your numbers and calibrations, I’ll stick with solid things.” He squatted, finding the culprit for his pounding head. “Got you now, you little bastard.”

  “Don’t say I never offered.”

  “I’m gonna need some of that liquid freedom you have stashed after this.”

  “I know a place we can crash planetside, near the tele-stations. We’ll polish it off and take a day of rest.”

  “Kayla would have my head in a grinder.”

  “See, this is why I never let one tie me down. All that nagging, it ain’t good for ya.”

  Chris wished he could slap Carl upside his head.

  He got as comfortable as the tight space would allow. Twisted sideways with his arms half bent over his head made tightening the valve tricky, but he had his eye on it. The crime this thing was committing against his sanity ended now.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that rest day,” Chris said. “She’s always a little feisty when she’s mad.”

  Carl cackled, spewing a torrent of vulgar rejoinders that threatened to make him blush. Chris muted the com in his ear and leaned into the wrench, pulling until his arms shook. He needed one more good turn on the valve to ensure it wouldn’t work itself loose again anytime soon.

  The pipe buckled.

  Hot steam poured from a new crack. The cloud licked down his arm with a menacing hiss. He flailed, conked his head, and landed halfway in the corridor holding his arm to his chest. Chris let out a guttural scream, stumbling to his feet.

  “Why would anyone not report this kind of wear? Dammit, Divine forsaken, augh!” A firmly placed boot sent the wrench flying. “That’s it, I need a break or I’ll quit for sure.”

  The occasional glimpse of the twinkling cosmos beyond the cargo ship was his only reprieve. In a “catapulting through the vast emptiness of space with only the battered hull to ensure safe travels” kind of reprieve.

  At least they were less than a day out from Moarnicoa, and he could hand over the repairs to someone else. He ignored the wear and tear crying out for a good spit shine. Right now, he needed two things: a medical kit and a strong drink. Make that three, he thought. Getting off this blasted ship.

  Thump. Thump-thump.

  Chris froze. He thought he was alone in this corridor. Not like Frank kept a huge crew. Just that one guy with a limp who stared every time you sat down to eat some freeze-dried something or other. He’d managed to avoid the strange guy for the last few days. Maybe he was amping up for an elaborate prank by hiking the creep factor.

  “This ship is really starting to get to me. No more space jobs. I’m staying planetside from here on out.”

  THUMP thump-thump-thump THUMP. The pounding sounded desperate and the instinct to help kicked in. Chris pushed it down, telling himself Frank’s new guy had gotten bored with no one to gape at.

  Thump-thump!

  “That’s it!”

  What possessed him to follow the noise was beyond him. For all he knew, the guy was some crazy amazing stealth fighter. He could be waiting beyond the next curve and have Chris down on the ground begging for his life.

  He peeked first. No limping stranger. But there was a door. A rather high-tech door. He felt around the doorjamb. The inset seam was flawless, the gap nearly invisible. Tapping the keypad beside it raised even more questions. The screen demanded an access code.

  Chris touched his earpiece, reconnecting to Carl. “Hey, what’s the access code to the room off corridor four?”

  “I got my hands full down here near the engines. I’ll get it for you later.”

  “Get it now. There’s a weird noise coming from in there and I don’t like the sound of it.”

  “Everything on this hunk of metal is making weird sounds! You want me to leave the engines and risk not getting planetside?”

  “Just pull up the code and you can get back to your engines.”

  “Ugh! Fine.”

  Chris tried not to laugh at the clanging and banging from Carl’s end.

  “All right, corridor four, access code… Uh, Chris, you sure you’re on four?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been here all day with those ungrateful pipes.”


  “There’s no codes listed for that corridor.”

  “Well, how am I supposed to get in?”

  “Take a hammer to it, I don’t care. The next crew can fix it.” The connection cut off.

  “Thanks for the help.”

  Chris checked to make sure the hall was clear, and forced the cover off the panel. Wires, sparks, that was what he expected. An easy way in by cutting the power. Instead, he found rows of perfect octagonal crystals. A luminescent opal sheen rippled across them and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  “How in Divine’s name did Frank get his hands on tech like this?”

  Whatever Frank was hiding in there couldn’t be legal.

  Chris picked at the crystals, but they wouldn’t budge. His throbbing arms reminded him and he went searching for his discarded wrench. Before he found it, the floor beneath him started to vibrate.

  Chris cringed, forcing a smile at Frank and his rotund mass. “You, uh, okay there, Frank? You’re looking a little red.”

  “Thought I smelled a stowaway.”

  “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you. Every time I move around, here you are.”

  “I ought to throw you out the airlock for your mouth.”

  “And I’m very grateful you won’t.”

  “I don’t want you greasehops hanging around when you’re not needed. You’ve been sticking your noses in places that might get you hung up to dry.”

  Chris could feel his temper fraying. The words itched to be said, and even though he told himself to leave it alone, get back to work, and put this whole delightful trip behind him, he couldn’t. If he lost his temper, it would take an act of the Divine to stop him.

  And they hadn’t.

  “This sudden warm and friendly conversation have anything to do with corridor four?”

  Frank snatched Chris’s shirt, pulling him so close Chris could count the pores on the ball of his nose. “You already forgettin’ rule number one for flying in my ship?”

  Of course he hadn’t, but Chris wasn’t backing down. “What’s so special it needs embassy-level tech to lock it up? Is this the reason you never come to the yard for routine maintenance? You’re sneaking around doing your own deals under the table?” The bulging veins in Frank’s neck answered that question. Chris worked his shirt from Frank’s grip, smoothing out the collar. “Tell me what’s behind door number one, and I might not report you.”

  Frank’s gnarled fist slamming into his jaw was almost as bad as the bitter taste of blood.

  “Don’t be askin’ any questions. I told you I wadn’t afraid of breakin’ a few noses, greasehop.”

  “Chris,” he mumbled through his fingers, and then wondered why he cared if blood got on Frank’s walkways. Dammit, that smarts…

  “What?”

  “My name.” He dropped his hands and spit blood at Frank’s feet. “It’s Chris, not greasehop.”

  “I’ll call you whatever I darn well please!”

  Chris could almost see the wheels turning in Frank’s mind. Whether or not to pound on him again, no doubt.

  “I know where you’re at every second. Don’t be going places you ain’t supposed to or I’ll be breakin’ more than yer nose.”

  “My mistake,” Chris said.

  Frank glowered and took off for the bridge. Chris sucked on his split lip. No way he was getting off this ship until he found out what Frank was trying to hide.

  He tapped his earpiece. “Carl?”

  “You figure out what’s in the mystery room?”

  “I’m gonna need you to override some systems.”

  “Which ones, and why?”

  “Frank used his fists instead of his words. He’s got that corridor rigged with something. He knew exactly where I was. He’s hiding something in there and I want to know what.”

  “You know, when people do that, it usually means you should stop getting up in their business.”

  “Just do it. I’m not getting arrested because Frank’s up to something shady.”

  “Fine. But he’ll know something’s up. And just because I cut the power doesn’t mean the door will unlock. If he’s that touchy about it, it probably has backup power.”

  “I’m going to need a little more time, then. This thing is high tech.”

  “I’d recommend explosives, but you might kill us all.”

  “No… What if you turn off the gravity? If nothing else, it’ll slow him down. And send a shipwide alert about a rusty cable or whatever. It’s the perfect cover with you tinkering around the engines the way you are.”

  “You’re a little scary when you’re scheming. I guess I can disable the gravity, but it won’t do you any good if he has other measures in place.”

  Chris dabbed at his lip and flinched. That bastard is so going to get it. He retrieved his wrench and waited for Carl to work his magic. The lights in the hall flickered, and a second later, Chris’s feet left the ground.

  “I owe you one, Carl!”

  “Just let me put the shackles on him if you find something diabolical back there.”

  “Hey, he split my lip!”

  “Showtime!” Carl cleared his throat, and All Hands chimed. “Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, it appears I’ve found some faulty wiring down here. I’ll get everything squared away shortly, but for the time being, we’re floating, and doors are sealed.”

  “Nice touch,” Chris said and started whaling at the keypad.

  With all the noise he was making, he hoped the doors to the bridge held against Frank’s mass.

  He couldn’t even scratch it.

  Thud. Thud-thud.

  Chris propelled himself down the hall, looking for his crowbar. He jammed it in the seam, and with his feet propped against the edge of the doorway, pulled. After a couple of tugs, he managed to dent the seam, giving him better leverage.

  Which was no help.

  Out of breath, he tapped his com. “Carl! Stupid thing won’t open. I barely dented it. Hey, the keypad has some kind of crystals under the screen. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Crystals? What the heck does he got in there? The royal jewels?”

  “How do I open it?”

  “You got a crowbar or something?”

  “Already tried that. It won’t budge.”

  “They slide up, man…”

  He cursed the door. “Of course it does.”

  Chris anchored himself and stood on it, pushing down with the help of the frame for leverage. Blood rushed to his head.

  “You might wanna hurry. Frank’s threatening to space me if I don’t get the gravity back on. I think he can hear you.” Carl groaned. “Now he’s ranting about breaking jaws and legs. I need my legs, man.”

  “I’m working on it!”

  With a slight hiss, the door gave and the keypad dimmed. No secondary backup. Chris thanked the Divine Frank wasn’t as bright as he’d started to think.

  Except for a row of large black boxes, the room was empty. He did a quick count.

  “Eight crates. And they don’t look like company issue,” he said thoughtfully. “Oh, Frank, what have you gotten yourself into?” He leaned out into the hall, making sure Frank hadn’t found a way out.

  Thud. Thud-thud!

  Chris inched his way into the room, following the desperate banging to one of the crates.

  “We get to shackle him, don’t we?”

  “Don’t sound so excited. I’m going to see what’s inside.”

  He brushed his hand along the edge of the closest crate. It was smooth and kind of shiny. “Weird, I’m not sure what these things are made of. Never seen this alloy before.” He examined the crate and found what he was looking for. With a swipe, he unlatched it and lifted the lid.

  An arc of electricity poured out.

  Chris leaped back, accidentally launching himself into a wall. Electricity crackled in all directions, narrowly missing him. The wail it produced made his teeth clench, forcing him to cover his ears with a
n almost inaudible screech and the electrical field retreated partway back into the box.

  “What was that! You okay?”

  Chris caught sight of an emergency switch. He stretched his arm and just managed to hit the recessed button. A klaxon blared throughout the ship.

  “Chris! What in the—”

  “Get gravity on, now!”

  What he thought had been a single tendril was attached to a solid mass of electricity. The almost human way it stretched out captivated Chris. The thing shivered, almost like the lack of gravity confused it. What could be arms reached for the floor, its entire form flailing from the lack of control over itself. He and the entity hit the floor with a thump when Carl returned the gravity. Chris scrambled away, and what he released from the crate disappeared into the hall. Chris dragged himself into a sitting position, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

  “What in the great Divine was that?” Frank screeched over the speakers.

  He ought to bust Frank’s nose. Hiding behind the doorframe, he hit the intercom. “There’s some kind of electrical monster loose on the ship! What are you toting around in these crates?”

  “What you goin’ on about?”

  He could hear the uncertainty in Frank’s voice, and the rising anger. Chris no longer cared. He might be just a greasehop forced to work on this so-called ship, but Frank had put them all in serious danger.

  Were the crates all filled with those things? No sooner had he thought it, Frank bounded into the corridor, waving a balled fist at him.

  “What in the void you doin’ back here, greasehop?” Frank’s face looked like it might start steaming at any moment.

  “What in the black void are you hauling, Frank! That thing almost killed me.”

  “I done told you not to go places you ain’t supposed to, greasehop! Was your lip not enough of a warning!” Frank stomped over to him, ready to finish him off. He stopped short when he noticed the first crate had, in fact, been opened. “You ain’t never s’pose to open the blasted boxes!” Frank produced a gun Chris didn’t know he was carrying and forced it into Chris’s hands, drawing another for himself. “You’ll need one of these. I’ll sort you out later after we get it back in there. Which way’d it go?”