Hyvilma, p.2
Hyvilma, page 2
part #1 of Kitra: book 3 Series
“Too deep for me,” Pinky said with a normal-sounding chuckle. “Remembering is hungry work. Pass me another baklava.”
I stifled a sigh of relief, grabbing a sticky piece to hand it to him. I expected him to simply absorb the pastry into his pseudopod, as normal, but instead he made a show of pressing it into a mouth-shaped depression he’d made under his eyespots. After it had disappeared, he made a pretty good approximation of the sound of lips smacking. It was an elaborate display, all meant to say “I’m still here, guys. Don’t worry.”
I felt my shoulders untense, and there was a rustle as people repositioned themselves on seats.
“I’ll brew some coffee,” I said.
Chapter 3
We got pretty raucous after dinner. Maybe it was the coffee. I like it strong.
Pinky started the confetti war. He parked himself in front of the Maker and grew four arms. We had a better than even chance at taking him until Sirena took his side. For a skinny thing, she’s got a serious throw. At least the princess didn’t use her chair’s shield to block our throws. That would have been truly unfair.
They had us under siege for a good five minutes. In between barrages, one of us would duck out from the table to get a shot off… and usually get showered for our trouble. Thankfully, the Maker was pretty low on goop after all we’d used for the banquet and decorations. Pinky reached into the thing, grasped empty air. That was our cue to rush him. Peter and Marta pinned his arms back, and I took a whole can full of the shredded paper and dumped it on Sirena’s head. She shrieked with laughter.
We all did, even Pinky, with his weird guffaws that sounded like an accordion dying. If anything marked the conclusion of a successful party, it was that.
I wiped the tears from my eyes, my laughs fading to giggles. That’s when I noticed we hadn’t all joined the final rush.
“What are you looking at, Fareedh?” I had to say it twice before I caught his attention. Fareedh looked up at me from the other side of the table, brushing hair from his forehead. His ponytail had gotten undone in the chaos.
“Fusion burn. I think.”
The words didn’t even register at first. He popped up a sayar holo to illustrate. There was a series of abbreviations and symbols decorating a fuzzy photograph of what looked like a starfield.
“I don’t… oh, I see it.” A streak of light from a time-lapse shot. “You sure it’s not a comet or something?”
“Yeah. It’s not steady,” he explained. “I’ve got the ship’s sensors set to do an all-day sweep of the sky. I figured it was probably overkill given that this is a pretty worthless system. On the other hand, we didn’t know that until we got here, so…”
“So you think another scout has showed up?” I asked.
Pinky stopped struggling. Peter swallowed his hiccoughing laughter and looked at Fareedh. “What’s that again? There’s another scout in the system?”
“Maybe.” His tone was doubtful. “If it were a scout, you’d think they’d have left their drive on. This burn went on for just a minute. But when I tried to track the ship optically based on where it should be, I couldn’t find it.”
Sirena frowned. “Could it have Jumped out again?”
“He’d have seen that,” Peter asserted. He got up to look over Fareedh’s shoulder, putting a hand on the back of his chair.
Pinky peered, too, narrowing his head and extending his eyespots to just in front of the programmer’s sayar, where there were more displays active. Fareedh looked down at the alien’s eyespots, then up at Peter. “Do you mind?” he said softly, in amusement.
They withdrew and he continued. “That ship is still in the system, I’m sure of it. I just can’t find it.”
“Perhaps they’ve switched to thrusters,” Pinky suggested.
Peter pursed his lips. “That wastes a lot of fuel. The only reason to do that is…”
“…if they don’t want to be seen,” Marta finished.
I frowned. GM +107 was a worthless system. A feeble star, an airless rock on the inner edge of its habitable zone, and a gas giant on its outside. The giant’s moon was no prize, either. Outside, the poisonous atmosphere was just thick enough to maintain a pressure and temperature to sustain the few lakes of liquid water that would allow us to Jump back to Hyvilma.
If there was another ship here, it could only mean a few things. They might, like us, be here to get fuel. They might be scouting it for the first time, hoping to find a good world to explore. Neither of those required stealth, nor did it make sense to blow their fuel using their antigravity to push them around.
There was only one type of ship that would not want to be seen, until it was too late.
“Pirates,” I said out loud.
“Por Dios,” Sirena whispered. Her face blanched.
Peter’s eyes went wide. “We’ve got to kill the transponder!” He knocked over his chair lurching for the bridge. I was right on his heels.
Majera’s bridge was a half-circle just roomy enough for five chairs in an arc. Sirena was the last one in, squeezing her chair in the center, flanked by Fareedh and Peter. The Window was on, right now showing what was actually in front of us. Wisps of orange cloud drifted across a dark blue sky. The giant that was the moon’s primary hung over us, a sea-colored behemoth ringed with faint bands.
“It’s off,” Peter said. I didn’t ask how he’d managed it. By law, the beacon that kept us from being a menace to navigation was supposed to be tamper-proof.
“We may be too late, though. Fareedh, how long was that ship in-system?”
Fareedh turned from his panel, pulling his hair back into a ponytail. “No way to tell, though I imagine they turned off their drive when they spotted us.”
“If we take off on thrusters, we’ll be invisible, too, right?” Marta wanted to know.
“Sure, though it’ll cut our Jump margin close,” I said.
I cursed my luck. I’d thought I was killing three flies with one shot going to this new system instead of going back the way we’d gotten to Sirena. This way we’d get fuel, explore an unknown star, and avoid the fanatics who’d set up shop on the one good planet around GM +106, or as they’d named it, “Purité”.
Well, it was what it was. I swiveled to face Peter. “How much fuel did we get?”
The engineer checked his panel, jaw muscles clenched. Then he blew out his breath, big shoulders untightening. “We’re full. As of this morning.”
“That’s something, at least.” I turned back to the Window, eyes narrowing at the dark sky. “They might be able to track us with their scopes, even if we don’t use the engine. Plus, if we blow too much fuel on the take-off, we won’t make it all the way back to Hyvilma.” That system was at the edge of our three-parsec range.
There was silence for a moment. Then Pinky, sitting in the co-pilot spot, tapped recently grown fingers.
“If I may suggest something?” His tone was calm, though he had shaded an alarming faint ochre. I nodded, and he tapped a display into existence in the Window. It was a 3-D line drawing of the moon we were on and the gas giant planet it orbited. The other moons weren’t in the schematic.
“Let’s let Newton do the work for us,” he explained. A slide of his fingers, and a curved line extended from Majera’s position toward the giant. It looked like he planned for us to ram it.
“Is suicide part of the plan?” Sirena asked, her voice thin.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Pinky said, quickly rotating the display. I could see now that our path would not quite graze the giant, using its gravity to fling us out into space faster than either our engines or thrusters could. Once we got a safe distance from the planet, we could go into Jump.
“That’s a tricky path,” I said, rubbing the fingertips of my right hand together. “You sure we won’t ram atmosphere at that height?”
“Provided Marta’s measurements are right, we should be fine,” he said.
I considered the course. It looked tough. We didn’t know exactly where the planet’s atmosphere ended. Come in too close and we’d have trouble. And it was mostly Pinky’s job to make sure we got through safely.
“Are you up to this?” I asked.
Pinky slid his eyespots to face me. “I won’t let you down,” he said simply.
I felt something melt in me, right about chest level. Blinking a couple of times, I put my hand on one of his and nodded.
The Window switched back to all-visual, the bright, cratered ice plain stretching to jagged peaks on the horizon. Then we were looking beyond as Majera floated swiftly into the sky under the power of its antigrav. I pushed our acceleration to the edge of the compensators’ ability to handle, and we were out of the wispy atmosphere in just a few minutes. I tried to watch three things at one: the fuel indicator; the constellation of ship’s health indicators I called “The Tree”; and deep space. The last was mostly pointless. We’d feel a beam blast or projectile before we saw it, and Fareedh would see a missile’s engine with his instruments before I saw it with my eyes. I could only hope our velocity would make us a tricky target. I couldn’t wiggle us very much and keep us on Pinky’s course at the same time.
“I wish we didn’t have to fly blind,” Peter muttered. “A few pings would light up whatever’s out there.”
“And give us away,” Fareedh noted.
“I know, I know.”
“I’ve got eyes open, don’t worry.”
But his calm words ended in a little gasp. I looked over my shoulder, and he was already looking at me.
“Incoming, Kitra!”
I gripped the flight sticks. “Is it them or a missile?”
“One sec.”
There was still nothing I could see in the Window. Nothing but the looming bulk of the giant.
“It’s too agile to be a ship,” Fareedh said.
Sirena’s voice rang out, “Why did we not see it until now?”
“I don’t know. They couldn’t have gotten a shot at us so quickly.”
“Well, if you can see it, put it on the screen,” I bit out.
A new display filled half the Window. Our course and something else’s, on an intercept trajectory. It had come from the planet.
“A trap,” Marta whispered. More loudly, she added, “They must have fired it into orbit while we were fueling up on the moon.”
I felt Sirena’s hand on the back of my chair. “Can we dodge it?” Her voice was brittle, the Spanish accent in her French stronger.
I eyeballed the course chart. The missile wasn’t exactly following us. There was a steep angle between its trajectory and ours. That made sense. We’d taken off in a hurry, while their missile had probably just sat passively in orbit until it spotted us leaving. It was also on a continuous burn, trying to intercept us before we flew behind the giant. If it missed, it wouldn’t get a second chance.
“What kind of acceleration does that thing have?” I called out.
I had time to wipe the sweat from my forehead before Peter answered, “30 gees.”
Pinky whistled. It was about what I’d expected, though. A robot ship doesn’t have to worry about crew comfort.
“We’re going to have to let it get pretty close before I jink,” I said. “I can’t give it a chance to correct its course.”
No one replied to that, but someone helpfully added a countdown to the course chart. Lord! Only thirty seconds. The thing was fast. I had to put maximum acceleration into the maneuver if we wanted a chance to dodge. My hands were clammy on the sticks, even as the handles did their best to wick the sweat away. I yawed the ship so our landing side was at a right angle to the missile’s approach. When I fired the engine, I wanted as much deflection from its course as possible.
Ten seconds. It was now or never. I punched both the thrusters and pushed the fusion engine to full output. The antigrav made sure there was no feeling of acceleration, even with all that force, but the whole ship started to vibrate. The power plant pitched up from silence to a low, protesting whine. I couldn’t keep this up for long.
My eyes were glued to the course display. Majera’s trajectory slid sideways, edging closer to the giant. If we went on too long, we’d plow right into it. Maybe I should have pushed us the other way. But then we’d have lost some of the advantage Pinky was trying to give us with this course.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
The missile passed beyond us, missing by a good several kilometers. I heard a ragged chorus of sighs, mine the loudest of them. I flicked the thrusters and engine off. Now all I had to do was get us back on our original course.
Bright light flooded the Window before the dimmers could adjust. A second later, a sickening crash shook the ship. I was flung against my straps. All sensation of weight disappeared, and now only the straps were keeping me in my seat.
Chapter 4
“Great Infinity,” Peter moaned. “They got the antigrav.”
“What got us?” Sirena asked. “That wasn’t a beam.”
I looked at Fareedh, brushing aside my ponytail. It had whipped around in front of my face.
“The missile’s off my eyes. I think it was proximity fused. It exploded close enough to hurt us without a direct hit.”
My throat was dry. “How bad?”
Peter called up diagnostic screens at his station. I glanced at the Tree. My stomach lurched. When we’d taken off, the little lights had all been green. Now it looked like the gap-toothed grin of an eight-year-old.
“Drive’s dead,” he said, just as I spotted the browned-out light that told me the same thing. “Thrusters are offline, along with the whole antigrav system. The laser capacitor is out.”
“Lord,” I mouthed again. “What do we have left?”
“The power plant’s working,” Peter replied.
Marta added, “Life support is alright.”
I tried to focus on what I should do next, say next. My mind was whirling. No Jump. No thrusters. No antigrav. Big planet. Pirate. Do something. Do something.
Pinky pointed at the Window, a finger extending toward our current flight path, which was now half the distance from the giant as before. “If there are no errors in the program, this is our primary concern.”
I turned to face Fareedh. He didn’t look at me, but after a moment of frantic tapping, sat back with a relieved exhale. “Ship’s sayar just passed diagnostics.”
Thank goodness. Everything was tied to that computer. I pounded the heel of my left hand into my thigh. The pain was something singular to focus on. I held up a finger to everyone, asking for silence, then closed my eyes. I could afford five seconds. Five seconds wouldn’t be the end of the world, and if it was, nothing I could do in that short a time would matter anyway.
Deep breath, exhale, eyes opened. Now, one thing at a time.
We had about half an hour until we grazed the giant’s atmosphere. Even with the antigrav off, we could still use the engines without too much trouble. We’d just be pressed into our seats. The issue was the pirate. If we didn’t change course, and they knew where we were, they could plot our path and hit us with a beam.
On the other hand, why would they? I thought about it a moment. Then said, “Let’s play dead for a few minutes.”
“It’s not really playing,” Peter said. “What are you thinking?”
“If they’re pirates, they’ll want the ship intact. Ships are too precious to just blow up. I don’t think that missile was ever meant to hit us.”
“Unless they’re just kill-happy,” Peter shot back. “Maybe they’re something like the grilchies.”
“We’d already be dead, then,” Fareedh said in a low voice. “They don’t do subtle.”
I nodded agreement. “They can see Majera. I want to be able to see them. If they want us, they’re going to have to come and get us. Then we can evade. In the meantime, how much of our damage is repairable?”
Peter opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, then turned to his panels. Tap tap tap. It was only a second or two, I’m sure, but it seemed to stretch interminably. “Fareedh,” he said at last. “I think the antigrav’s just on safety standby. It’s stuck on my end, but I bet you can patch around it and use the backup subsystem.”
Fareedh nodded, his little ponytail bobbing. “Yeah, I can try that.”
“And the Drive?” I asked.
“I’ll need a bit. I can’t find an internal fault.”
“What about the gun, darling? Can we fix the capacitor?” Sirena had put her hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“You wanna shoot back? That’s up to Kitra. Anyway, I think we’re outclassed.”
Pinky spoke up, “We don’t know what we are. I can go examine the capacitor if you like.”
“Do you have any idea what you’d be looking for?” Peter asked.
He shrugged. “I can at least tell you if it’s there. And also inspect for physical damage.”
“Let me do it,” Marta said. “I’ve looked over Peter’s shoulder enough times. If we have to move in a hurry, Kitra’s going to need you.”
I felt myself grabbing for her wrist. She turned, surprised.
“Wear a suit, okay?” I said.
She gave me a tense smile. “We’ve still got air pressure, but I take your point.” She squeezed my fingers before kicking off and soaring out of the bridge.
It would take a few minutes for Marta to suit up and make her way down the lower deck passageway that serviced the Drive. All I could do was watch the Window. Silence stretched.
Abruptly, I heard Fareedh mutter, “Cocky bastard.” I looked over at him. He added, “A burn, like you thought. Check it out.”
The Window panned left, and a glowing orange circle highlighted what looked like just another star out of millions. But the spectrogram that popped up next to it left no doubt. No star would have that signature.
