Chapter 26 #2
In retrospect, Moss was life support, talking with someone barely clinging to life. It would absolutely know this wasn’t the time to joke.
Torian tapped the armrest of her chair incessantly, waiting for Moss to tell Amelia.
It was obvious the moment Amelia comprehended their instructions. She waved and hauled herself out of the chair again. One of the blankets fell away from her shoulders, and she shuddered violently, but turned toward the flight deck’s exit. In a moment, she’d vanished into the depths of her ship.
“She is relocating to another area of the starship. My colony is limited; I cannot communicate over the rest of the Charlatan, so we will not know if she’s successful until she activates her tug.” Moss sounded tense.
It was all on Amelia, now.
Torian settled into her chair to wait, her foot bouncing. “How long do they have?”
“There is insufficient data; the colony on her starship is very, very small. My heat sensors can make an estimate based on presumed hull integrity, life support efficiency, and probable starting temperatures.” Moss paused.
“The answer is that it is very, very cold. You likely don’t want to know more. ”
Torian clenched her fingers together, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Never before had she wished so strongly to sweep Amelia into her arms—and never before had there been such a barrier from doing just that.
After eight agonizing minutes, Moss intoned, “Heat is dropping in the crew room. We can presume a portion of the power has been diverted.”
“I’ll get us into position for the tug,” Torian said, gently guiding the Destitute toward the external device on Amelia’s ship.
More waiting.
Five minutes.
Seven.
“Um,” Auto-Nav said. “Incoming signatures! They’re back.”
Fuck. Fuck. Torian set her jaw. “We aren’t leaving. Not until Amelia attaches the tug. They can’t affect our ship, so we’ll just have to weather them.”
“Running scenarios.” Moss was silent for a moment, then said, “If it changes your decision, there is a fifty-four percent chance they can damage our hull—in that case, our instrument resistance will not matter. How is your breathing in space, Captain?”
“We’re not leaving,” Torian snapped.
“That is a self-sacrificing tendency, one Amelia herself told me not to allow. It is also a dramatic shift for someone who is not in a romantic relationship with Amelia Perrosk.” It wasn’t a question, and there was a distinctly sarcastic undertone.
Torian glared at the ceiling. “Regardless of whatever is happening between us, she’s still a friend. I don’t abandon my friends.”
Moss was silent for a moment. “Agreed.”
A breath later, something slammed into the hull. The entire ship jolted, and Auto-Nav said cheerfully, “Tug attached. Magnet holding strong.”
Torian peered at the Charlatan’s flight deck, which was difficult to see from this angle. What she could confirm, though, was that Amelia hadn’t come back.
Torian had a bad feeling about this.
“Get us back to Vaesa,” she ordered, even as more of those fish creatures reappeared. They poked around asteroids, hissing silently, swarming the ship again. One of the creatures plastered itself to the window, snarling at her.
Torian flipped it off, which was vaguely satisfying. “Auto-Nav! Now!”
“Okay!” Auto-Nav lurched the ship forward, and there was a jerk as the tow line went taut. It became apparent immediately that steering a second ship through an asteroid belt would take a true feat of piloting—especially when a huge asteroid narrowly missed the Charlatan.
“Watch it,” Torian yelped.
“Don’t distract me,” Auto-Nav shot back.
Control of the ship was still in Torian’s hands, but when she released the yoke, it moved independently. Auto-Navigation was just that—automatic—but it was a bit unnerving to realize that this computer program could steer anytime it wanted.
Unnerving … and a bit comforting, now. There was no way Torian could keep Amelia’s dead starship from smashing into these asteroids or other floating debris, but Auto-Nav didn’t seem to have any issue calculating collision courses and avoiding them.
Torian turned her attention instead to those things plastered along her hull.
For a bit, she really thought they’d rip her starship apart—but as they flew steadily toward Vaesa, it became apparent that wasn’t how these things operated.
Apparent, and almost comical. The serpentine creatures seemed both annoyed and confused that they couldn’t stop her ship. After several minutes, the ones on the window stopped snarling, their faces twisting in obvious looks of perplexity.
Once that registered, they disconnected from her starship one by one, vanishing into the darkness.
“My external moss is again undisturbed. I believe they are leaving our ship,” Moss said. “Good riddance.”
For Torian, it felt more like they were gearing up for a final attack. “The Charlatan is still attached, isn’t it?”
“Confirmed. We are traveling counter to their weight,” Auto-Nav said brightly.
Vaesa was in view now. So close. It felt too easy. Torian held her breath, tapping her fingers on her thigh. Could they make it inside, or would these creatures be back?
Torian wasn’t going to sit around and find out. “Their speech seems to be what’s impacting our systems. Whenever they opened their mouths, our instruments went wonky.”
“Wonky is accurate, yes!” Auto-Nav agreed.
“Maybe we should try and talk to them,” Torian said.
Moss seemed tense. “There is no indication that is possible.”
“You’ve proven there’s lots of ways to communicate, Moss.
They haven’t attacked our hull, or disconnected Amelia’s ship.
Their biggest defense is how they interact with our electrical systems.” Torian racked her brain.
“What do they want? They’ve been watching us since we entered the nebula last week. ”
“Logic would stand that this is their territory. Organics like to claim territory.”
“So, either they moved into this space when the nylarians left … or, they’re protecting what was left behind.
” The minute Torian voiced it, it felt like the correct answer.
Her mind spun through possibilities. “The ship graveyard is at the edge of the nebula. Vaesa and Verdaan are in the center. I think these creatures are the nylarian defense system.”
Moss replied, “We are not intending to harm Vaesa.”
“They might not know that. Auto-Nav. Give Moss every communication they’ve transmitted to you. I bet we can decipher the language—”
“We do not need to,” Moss intoned. “Incoming message from Zenthielutos’s starship. Dutch’s signature.”
Torian flicked the radio to the incoming transmission. Zen’s ship was apparently called the Quralt-aletz, and its message was marked high priority. She picked up the radio. “Dutch? Hello?”
“Torian!” Dutch’s voice was staticky, which was odd for how close the two ships were, physically. “Good news and bad news. Good news is, I think I know what these things are! Bad news: They’re definitely swarming the ship you’re tugging.”
Torian tensed. “Moss?”
“Confirming,” Moss replied.
The Quralt-aletz loomed over Vaesa like a vengeful moon.
Unlike the Destitute or Amelia’s ship, Zen’s had weaponry—guns that were locked on to the strange creatures, following them through space.
Curiously, Zen’s ship still didn’t seem affected by whatever radio interference these creatures were using.
Zen didn’t fire at the creatures, and they’d backed away from Vaesa. Which meant instead, they were focused on Torian’s vessel—although they remained out of sight of the Destitute’s front camera and flight deck.
Torian briefly left the pilot’s chair, hopping down the short staircase to squint through the windows in the living area. Sure enough, several of the creatures were swarming the strong magnet, attempting to break its connection and leave the Charlatan stranded yet again.
Amelia still hadn’t resurfaced on the Charlatan’s flight deck.
Where was she?
Torian grabbed the radio again. “Can you shoot them off?”
“Shoot them—” Dutch spluttered. “No, no, we won’t be doing that. Torian, this species is called the keels, and they originated on Verdaan.”
“In the oceans, I know. Moss told me.”
“Right! But I scanned them, and their genetic makeup is different now. The nylarian leadership must have altered them to exist in space.”
Some defense mechanism.
“How does that help us?” Torian demanded. “They cut power to my friend’s ship, Dutch. They’re freezing, and we have no idea how much oxygen they have. I have to get them to Vaesa.”
“I know, I know. Listen! On Verdaan, this species used to attack our ships on the ocean. Like—like your human sirens. Their communication interferes with basic technology, so over eons we had to adapt. I made those same adaptations to the Destitute and its auto-navigation without even thinking about it. When Zen’s ship flew into the nebula, we noticed the same interference, so I was able to adjust it here, too. ”
Zen said in the background, “He thought it was strange, but clearly not strange enough to examine further.” There was an implication in his voice that Dutch probably should have.
Dutch huffed. “I was distracted worrying about Moss—”
“Dutch! Focus, please. Can you enact that fix remotely and reactivate Amelia’s ship in case they break the tug?”
“Hardly,” Dutch sniffed. “But if my species altered them and left them to defend this quadrant—I think I can talk to them. I just need Moss’s help.”
It seemed so easy.
Right up until Moss replied:
“No.”