Chapter 26
Torian had never moved so fast. Peat was completely forgotten as she called to Dutch, “Warn Zen! If we’re under attack, he needs to mobilize that fancy ship of his. I have to find Amelia!”
Dutch had followed her onto the flight deck, and now he squinted at the radar image.
It was mostly static, but occasionally, half a dozen blips would appear.
The Destitute was docked inside Vaesa, and they clearly weren’t willing—or able—to slide through the energy barrier, but flashes of dark, serpentine creatures slid across the dome high ahead.
Torian didn’t care what they were. She cared that Amelia’s ship was out there, drifting, possibly dead in space … and might have been for hours.
“Dutch,” she snapped.
The nylarian startled out of whatever trance he was in, spinning on his heel.
“Yes. Right! Keep in radio contact.” And he was gone, sprinting out of the Destitute with urgency.
Torian pressed a few buttons on the flight deck to seal the cargo bay behind him, and once they were pressurized, she launched the starship.
The second they left the energy barrier, they were swarmed. How this many had bypassed detection until the last minute was mind-blowing.
Then again, Moss and Auto-Navigation had trouble identifying these creatures from the very start. Moss had thought Torian was losing her mind when she mentioned them. Auto-Nav lost sight of them almost immediately the last time they entered the nebula.
“They are indeed organics,” Moss intoned, even as a nightmare played out before Torian’s eyes.
They looked like … fish. Almost. Kind of.
Their faces were vaguely humanoid, same as Dutch’s, but that was where the similarities ended.
They had long, flowy tails that drifted in space, and the tips glowed with blue light when they moved.
Their eyes were endless black pools, and their hands were flat and wide, more like fins or sails than fingers.
As the Destitute peeled away from Vaesa, they swam over its hull, peering into the flight deck through the big windows. One hissed, a sound lost in space, and the instruments on the panel flashed in tandem.
“More interference,” Auto-Nav yelped.
“Keep it steady,” Torian ordered. “Lock on to the Charlatan’s signature. We have to get to them.”
At least Celise was safely in Vaesa for this. Torian couldn’t handle knowing she’d accidentally endangered both of her favorite people.
The engine fired up, and the Destitute shot forward. One by one, the creatures peeled away from the hull, until the radar went blank: No signatures present. Either those things had gone back to Vaesa, or they were following at a slower pace.
It bought time, which was a relief.
Torian set her jaw, squinting into the star-speckled darkness. “Auto-Nav. How far?”
“Six minutes to last-known location. Rhizoids crossed.” Auto-Nav didn’t have rhizoids, but clearly it was learning some things from Moss.
Torian leaned back in the pilot’s seat. “What the hell were those things?”
Moss answered: “I obtained visuals from the external camera. Running an image scan now.” A pause. “They appeared to be a spacefaring species. This should be an impossibility. Organics lack any form of true propulsion in a vacuum.”
Torian thought back to their tails, glimmering with light.
“I think they have propulsion. Somehow.” She’d studied solar engineering, not biology, but that did seem impossible.
Were they the nylarian defense system? Part organic, part machine?
Moss claimed to be the first, but … it wouldn’t be wild to think other nylarians were developing similar technology.
Dutch had seemed more perplexed than alarmed, looking at these creatures through the window.
Curious.
“Image match found,” Moss replied. “They are similar to a known species in the oceans of Verdaan. At a later stage in their evolution, members of this species ventured into the airspace above the oceans for extended periods.”
“So, they learned to fly? But how—”
“Approaching the ship!” Auto-Nav highlighted a blip on the radar.
Torian pressed out of the chair, craning to see better through the window. Confirming Torian’s worst nightmare, Amelia’s ship came into view … sparking from the engine, drifting in the dark.
It was completely inert, although its hull seemed to be intact.
That hardly mattered. Asteroids were all around them, and it was only a matter of time before something collided. If Amelia’s crew was still alive after hours without heat or fresh oxygen, the debris in this nebula would do them in.
“Fuck,” Torian breathed. She’d spent last night chatting with aliens, laughing with her sister, eating good food, and sleeping away years of stress.
She’d just assumed Amelia had been farther out than expected, and was still approaching Vaesa in good time.
She’d shared the “safe” flight path, after all.
She never imagined creatures stalked this nebula, incapacitating starships independently.
It was entirely possible that Auto-Nav was the only reason the Destitute hadn’t wound up in a similar position.
Cold dread slid through Torian’s chest, and her voice was hard. “Get us closer.”
“Okay.” Auto-Nav angled the Destitute as close to the ship as possible, offering Torian a good view.
But human ships didn’t use windows, for better structural integrity. Which meant there was only one option to see inside the ship—to know if Amelia’s life support had already failed—and it was the flight deck’s single viewport.
If Torian sent Amelia into a known ship graveyard, and Amelia died for it … Torian would never forgive herself. Feeling sick, she took control from Auto-Nav, angling the yoke. The flight deck crept into view.
Dark.
Empty.
Except … there was Amelia, covered with heavy blankets, staring numbly into space.
The relief Torian felt was immense, radiating to every corner of Torian’s body, honing her despair into something actionable. Thank the Heavens.
Amelia was alive.
That meant, this time, it was up to Torian to save her.
With desperation, Torian waved at her through the windows … but it took Amelia several moments to notice. She was moving sluggishly, undoubtedly freezing, and her eyes were unfocused as she stared at Torian’s ship.
“Come on, Ames,” Torian whispered. “You see me. We’re going to help.”
Recognition finally registered. Amelia blinked slowly, pushing to her feet. She was unsteady as she staggered to the flight deck’s sole window, pressing close to the thick glass. Maybe she didn’t believe help had really come.
Torian wished she could get on the radio and talk to her—but of course, Amelia’s ship didn’t have power. Instead, Torian offered a mock salute.
A slight smile tugged Amelia’s pale lips. She pressed one hand to the window and mouthed, About time.
Torian swallowed a laugh that might have been a sob.
“Moss,” Torian demanded, “what are our options?”
“Scans indicate the temperatures aboard her ship are reaching fatally cold levels. One room is warmer than the rest, likely a spot with auxiliary power. I believe her crew is stationed there to conserve body heat.”
Of course Amelia would be on the flight deck, alone, searching for rescue.
Of course she’d leave the rest of her crew in the safest location in the meantime.
It was ironic, considering how often she begged Torian not to do anything stupid or take unnecessary risks. Torian didn’t know whether to kiss Amelia or throttle her.
Moss paused. “Torian, I have a confession.”
Torian gnawed at her lip, still brainstorming. “What is it?”
“On Colony 4, I infiltrated Amelia’s starship to speak with her.”
“What?”
Moss sounded indignant. “You were uncomfortable with my consumption of public video recordings. I decided to take my questions straight to Amelia, since she is half of your not-romantic partnership.”
Torian felt both shaky and embarrassed. “Why is this important now, Moss?”
“I have access to the Charlatan’s speaker system at this proximity. Would you like me to communicate with Amelia directly?”
The radio only worked when power was active. Auxiliary systems might have kept it online. Torian checked that by pinging Amelia’s ship—and getting static in response. Either Amelia’s radio was offline, or she’d rerouted the power to help her crew.
No one else was coming. Without an SOS ping, Torian was the only person who might find her. That made Torian even more determined to fix this.
“Do it,” Torian said.
Moss went quiet, and a few seconds later, Amelia glanced at the ceiling. It must be working. Torian leaned forward, holding her breath, as Amelia turned from the window.
After a tense moment, Moss said, “The unidentified organics swarmed her starship hours ago. Amelia said that they rendered every system inoperable. There was not enough time to send an SOS.”
What kind of interference did those creatures have? Why didn’t it affect the Destitute, or Zen’s ship … or Vaesa, for that matter? Why did they only seem to disable the human vessels?
Questions for another time. Priority One was towing Amelia’s ship to safety.
“We can’t get inside her ship, so we have to bring them with us. Do we have a tug?”
“The Destitute has never needed to tow a ship.”
So, no. Torian clenched her hands into her long hair, groaning in frustration. In the Charlatan, Amelia had sunk back into the pilot’s chair. She seemed to be forcing herself to remain alert, tapping on the control panel, but it was completely dark.
Think. Think.
Amelia had a tug on her ship. If there was auxiliary power for basic life support, maybe they could siphon some of it to the tug. If Amelia could attach to the Destitute, just like they had before Colony 4, Torian could tow them to safety this time.
“Tell Amelia we’re going to need her tug, then. If she can attach to us, we’ll get her home.”
She almost expected Moss to say, “I am not your assistant” or something along those lines, but even the computer seemed to understand how dire this was. “One moment,” Moss said.