Ulfar (Intergalactic Surrogacy Agency #4)

20. Might of Aesirheim

MIGHT OF AESIRHEIM

ULFAR

I ’m standing on the ship’s bridge with Soren, Rathgar, Orri, and Djorn as we look out into the gathering expanse of space. We’re just now leaving Aesirheim’s atmosphere, and while the ship’s engines roar in my ears, I’m hunched over the scanner with Orri looking for any trace of the rogue vessel.

“We’re picking up activity near Yarilo-V,” Orri says, looking at the monitor. “It looks like one of our transports was attacked en route yesterday afternoon.”

Yesterday afternoon. That would have been right when I was away fetching that book for Sarah. Did she know? Was it all planned?

A looming fear sinks in and festers. What if Sarah has been with the Syndicate this entire time? What if she’s a spy or agent sent to seduce me so that she could gain intelligence and leave when she’d seen enough? The thought makes bile rise in the back of my throat. Even if it’s true, it’s not the first time I’ve been betrayed. I swallow back the fear and focus on the mission. I’ll find out if it’s true soon enough.

“Why are we just now hearing about this?” I ask. “I shouldn’t have had to wait until a human girl tracked me down to know there was a problem.”

“You see this?” Orri points. It’s a standard readout of the supply routes usually taken by the merchant ships.

“Yeah, it doesn’t look like anything to me.” I squint, trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Exactly. They scrambled the feed and overwrote the data to make it look like nothing was amiss. It wasn’t until we were airborne I noticed the anomalies.”

I growl. Memories of our last encounter still ring painfully in my head. “They’ve gotten smarter.”

Orri frowns, shaking his head. “That they have. Djorn, can you bring us in? Sending the coordinates over now.”

“Can do,” Djorn says from the pilot’s station. The ship tilts slightly, changing course toward the source of the anomaly.

I don’t know what I expected to see, but it wasn’t this. Cold, lifeless corpses float aimlessly in the vast void of space, surrounding the skeletal remains of a shuttle. It has been completely gutted and stripped of anything useful, picked clean like a vulture with its prey. I know only one enemy that would do such a thing.

“Syndicate,” I growl.

My eyes track what passengers I can see, but they’re too far away to get a good reading. If Sarah is one of them, I don’t know what I’ll do.

As we’re observing the situation, guard ships from Yarilo-V zoom in and start scanning the downed vessel. The guard ship hails us, and Soren brings up their leader on screen.

“Do you know what happened here?” a man with bug-like eyes and green skin says.

“It was like this when we arrived,” Soren states. He steps to the forefront, taking on the leadership role as he always has. “The culprits you are looking for are long gone.”

“Hmm...” the guard mumbles. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Retrieve the transmitter from that shuttle and check the logs. You’ll see that it was downed long before we arrived. We simply want to help.”

The guard captain looks behind him. He mutes the feed while he consults with another member of his team. After a few moments, he comes back online.

“What you say is correct. But how did you know that this had happened?”

“This ship departed from our world, Aesirheim. The Starbound was headed to your station and was attacked along the way. We have as much interest in figuring out what happened to our people as you do, wouldn’t you say?”

He lets out a series of fast-paced clicking noises, the antennae atop his head twitching rapidly. “Very well. I will provide what information I can, but the reclamation and salvage rights rest with Yarilo-V, since it is in our airspace.”

Soren frowns but doesn’t push. “I understand.” He probably knows there’s not much left to salvage anyway. I’m about ready to get out of here and try to follow the Syndicate’s trail to wherever they went next, but I have one burning question in my mind.

Thankfully, Soren appears to have the same one.

“Tell me, do you have access to the ship’s manifest?” Soren asks pointedly.

“I do. We were able to obtain the records intact, thank the stars. The cargo inventory in particular will be most useful in determining the losses sustained.”

I have to bite back a retort. Typical merchant planet. Caring more about their precious goods and the number of coins than the lives lost.

“We are looking for a specific passenger who we believe was aboard that shuttle. Please check the manifest and send over a list of all human passengers, along with their current status.”

I shiver at how clinical he makes it sound.

“You have identified the fallen passengers, correct?”

“Oh yes, yes!” There’s that clicking again. “Though I hope you will understand, with a tragedy of this magnitude sometimes the data is not...complete.” He gives an apologetic-looking grin, but I know better.

“We await transmission of the requested logs. The sooner we can get them, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair.” He pauses for impact, then: “And the sooner you can salvage all that scrap. I daresay it would go for a pretty penny in the junkyard, wouldn’t it?”

That gets his attention. With scurried movements and exaggerated gestures, he barks an order to his teammate. Within seconds, we receive a notification on the ship’s console.

“Incoming transmission,” Orri says from the computer station.

“Let’s have it,” Soren says, and I hold my breath.

Orri taps a key, and the database appears up on screen, scrolling through a list of unfamiliar names. There were nearly one hundred passengers aboard, most of them now deceased, but as the list scrolls to its end there’s only one problem. Sarah’s not listed anywhere.

Did I have it wrong? Was she never on the ship to begin with?

“I’m picking up a reading!” Djorn cuts in. His surprised tone shocks all of us, and I jerk to attention. “I had the idea to track the transmitter waves produced by the translators the surrogates use for the program. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to lock on to the signal. It’s faint, but if we follow it, I think we’ll find your girl.”

Hope surges anew. I peer at the star map Djorn has pulled up, showing a blinking cursor not far from where we are now. They must have had to stop to refuel, and that’s good news for us. Means we can still catch up if we hurry.

“I went ahead and put out a distress call for Sarah’s hometown, as well as a be-on-the-lookout request for the surrounding area. They won’t escape our clutches this time.” He cracks his knuckles, and I can tell he’s jonesing for a fight. He was there during our failed encounter too, and I’m sure he wants redemption just as much as I do.

“Go after them, Djorn,” Soren says, sitting back down in his chair. He clicks off the connection with the guardsman and pulls up the viewport. “Let’s show them the true might of Aesirheim.”