Homeworld lost, p.5
Homeworld Lost, page 5
The creature sniffed my hand when I offered it and didn’t bite, scratch, or otherwise try to murder me. So far, I couldn’t see what was wrong with it, but assumed it had been left by the others. It yawned and I immediately doubted Qurks were damaging Kayan. Unless the den-like nest interfered with the ship’s functioning.
There was one thing I didn’t like—red and black slugs with circular mouths full of teeth and glowing green slime. Worried for the furry cat-dog creature, I reached to flick them out of the habitat.
“Noah!” The creature bared its teeth in a clear warning to back off.
“Why did it do that?” Grum asked.
Several ideas came together. “The others left food for this one. I think the Qurks are eating the slug things that probably eat Kayan’s circuitry. We were hunting the wrong rodents. Didn’t you say some of your kind believe the Qurks are natural and necessary?”
“That is correct, Noah.” Kayan floated several indistinct images in my awareness.
I struggled to understand what these glowing shapes meant. We’d talked about them. The ship was trying to present images I could see but the resolution wasn’t quite there.
“You are my eyes, Noah. While I know much about myself through various sensations, it is impossible for me to see in this manner or with such clarity.”
“You can see us,” Grum argued.
“Not with human depth and detail. Noah’s vision is exceptional. What he has shown me makes this power loss mystery embarrassingly obvious. Qurks may not be blameless, but the real problem is a Fyr infestation. That, I know, can be remedied.”
“Oh. Good thing you bonded with him more than the rest of us,” Grum said quietly.
I leaned toward the six-legged puppy-kitten staring back at me, then held out both arms. On cue, the Qurk crawled up and curled against my chest. It had this adorable club tail that was surprisingly dense.
“You’re a lot heavier than you look, mutt.” I shifted its weight. “Not really a mutt, though, are you?”
It didn’t say my name this time. Falling asleep took all of the creature’s attention.
“You captured one,” Grum said. “When should we start the experiments?”
“Uh, let me think about that. Scrape up those evil slug things.” I bounced the Qurk like a baby and watched the Walen work. He deftly scooped up the disgusting blobs into a bag. Meanwhile, my new friend extended and retracted its claws several times. I clenched my teeth, then stared at blood soaking through my sleeve. “Shit, these things have sharp claws. That went right through the organic sheeting protecting my forearms.”
Grum gave me a troubled look. He seemed to notice the backs of my hands for the first time. I got the sense that what Kayan had done to me wasn’t natural, and definitely wasn’t something she’d shared with the other passengers.
“Let’s get out of here, unless Kayan needs us to remove these nests.”
“No worries, Noah. I’ll handle that now that I understand the dynamics of this sub-ecosystem.” Kayan again attempted to show me an image, but it was blurry and evaporated the moment I concentrated on it. “Later, I will ask you and the rest of the crew to search for the Fyr slugs.”
“Can’t wait.” I headed into the main passageway, glad to finally stand straight.
Grum emerged behind me, then called out. “Wozim! We caught one.”
I stared at a seven-foot-tall, densely muscled monster out of a horror movie. He had horns like a bull, a scorpion tail partially covered in armor, and eyes ready to burn us where we stood. That last part was an exaggeration brought on by surprise, but still. This dude was terrifying. The deep red tone of his rough skin reminded me of a demon, or a devil, despite the sheer ridiculousness of my reaction. His clenched fists were like giant sledgehammers.
He wore a weird kilt with at least five sword and knife sheaths woven into it. The blades seemed to be part of the armor.
Grum hurried toward the brute. “Come look. Don’t you want to see our prize.”
Wozim glared down on the young Walen, shifted his gaze to me, and grunted. There was no hint of curiosity. He didn’t welcome me to the ship, or conversely, warn me to stay out of his turf. The Tyton merely went into a room and closed the door.
Grum’s shoulders slumped. I wanted to kick Wozim’s giant warrior ass for hurting my friend’s feelings. But of course that was a bad idea. Good thing it didn’t matter now.
“Come on, Grum. Let’s find someplace to put this critter and see what’s wrong with it,” I said.
6
“Noah,” yowled the Qurk.
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”
The six-legged, golden retriever puppy-kitten thing gave me a confused look and sat up without using its rear pair of legs. When I tried to touch them, it nipped at my fingers.
“You care for this creature?” Kayan asked.
“Don’t get excited.” I placed my hand on the floor of the padded basket Kayan had fabricated and waited. Sure enough, the creature I needed to name rested its chin on my palm and closed its eyes. Moments later, it slept. “What do you think we should do with it?”
“Noah, why must you create these predicaments?” Kayan said. “Life was simple before you arrived in your ruined ship. My passengers kept to themselves. We suffered whatever damage the Qurks and Fyrs caused and did the best we could. Now you have Grum following you around, Montow coming out of his shell, and have located a mascot.”
“No one asked you to save me.”
“You gave the correct permissions for my intervention.”
“I'm pulling your chain, Kayan. I'm glad to be here.”
I wasn’t sure the ship's assessment of the pre-Noah days was accurate. As far as I could tell, Montow did nothing but work. He was more talkative than Wozim, but not by much. The Gavant warship sighting had disturbed the captain.
Lights pulsed through the alien veins on the back of my hands. Words died before they reached my lips. The furry friend sleeping on my hand curled into the corner of the basket, allowing my careful retreat. What was wrong with its legs? Nothing looked broken. His littermates had just abandoned him. Qurks were jerks.
Montow and Grum strode in and headed for their pod-chairs and workstations facing a row of holographic screens projected from the ceiling.
The captain stopped. “You still have the rodent.”
“Not a rodent.”
He raised his sunglasses to give me a skeptical look with his unblinking eyes. “We must consent to not reach a consensus.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Yes. That is what I said.” He pulled up a holographic screen covered in star maps and columns of numbers. “Passengers are secondary to the journey. You must learn this.”
“Whatever you say.” Montow was in a mood this morning, and I didn’t feel like arguing.
Grum stood back and said nothing. He never took sides. “Tell me about the journey. Where are we headed?”
He scratched at his beard with one hand then pointed at a section of the middle screen. Lines crept from our location to one star system after another. “These are not far apart in galactic terms. Which is good. Kayan hasn’t fed often enough, and has never consumed a complete meal since our time on board.” He motioned to himself and Grum.
“Why not?” This was the first I’d heard of the problem and I was embarrassed I hadn’t asked Kayan sooner.
“The ship will only say there are fewer fungi fields in each star system,” Montow said. “I believe the Gavant armadas are destroying these fungus colonies to prevent their captive ships from getting far if they escape. What use is it for them to leave the detention system if they starve before reaching a friendly sector?”
“Seems like a lot of work,” I said. There were a lot of pieces missing to this puzzle. Why were the Gavant capturing the living starships? What were they doing with them? Was there something we could do to help?
“It is, but they only pursue space fungus eradication in conjunction with other goals. I do not believe they travel out of their way to destroy Kayan’s food source, but when they find collections of it, they burn the fields to atoms or scatter them beyond the heliospheres. The Gavant have many fleets. A directive to all of them has a catastrophic effect.”
“My people will lose the ability to exist if this continues,” Kayan said. “We have worried about the problem for a thousand of your standard years.”
Montow magnified a side screen. “This is Ryyth. We should continue our journey to it. If any part of the galaxy is safe from the Gavant, it is this one.”
I moved closer as an image of a blue and green world magnified. Ryyth appeared below it and my heart ached with homesickness. The biosphere turned as though we had achieved high orbit.
“These are images from memory. I was young. My early voyages were rushed and impatient, so I didn’t stay long. Worlds such as these are not often of interest to my people. This one is different. There are small fields of food. In times past, it wasn’t enough to bother stopping for. Now, it may be enough to sustain me until a better solution is found,” Kayan explained.
Montow spoke in a low, somber voice. “Before I was cast out, there was talk among my people that the Gavant could not hurt anyone on Ryyth. The reasons were unknown, and that was also in my youth. Forty standard years have passed, but I still believe this is our best way to remain free of the Gavant hunters.”
“Why are they after us?”
Montow tipped his soup can head side to side, just enough for the gesture to be noticeable. I thought it was like a shrug, or a thinking motion. “I cannot say they are after you, but it is good form to include yourself in our worries.”
“Not like I have a choice.”
“And now you have made this unattractive.” Montow pulled up other star systems and planets between our location and our destination. “This will not be a short journey, and there are significant dangers along the way. Kayan needs fuel now, and will continue to run short.”
“Perhaps you need a dead ship,” Kayan suggested. “I would not be offended if you transfer your allegiance to something made of non-living metal and cold fusion power plants. Each of you must do what is needed to survive.”
I cringed at the phrase dead ship. For a second, my brain had translated death ship before realizing she meant mechanical vessels lacking sentience. I also balked at the term allegiance. Was Kayan worried about loyalty? Had that been a problem before my arrival?
“Do we vote? Should we get Wozim in here?” I asked.
Montow and Grum stared at me. “He doesn’t take orders.”
“How about an invitation? A request?”
Montow shrugged. Grum looked uncomfortable.
“Watch the creature.” I pointed to the basket as I headed for the door. “We really should get the Tyton’s input on our destination. It’s time to introduce myself.”
“Good luck,” Montow said. “You will need it.”
I moved through the halls with barely a thought to my route or my destination. As part of the ship, navigating the passages was usually easy. Kayan hadn’t explained the times it wasn’t, but I assumed it was like any organism with an incomplete knowledge of itself. When I wandered places not normally of concern to my host, we both became lost. Weird, but real as anything about this place.
“Don’t overthink it, Noah.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” Kayan asked.
“Sort of.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Feels good.”
“I will remember this fact and not assume you are crazy in the future.” Kayan again attempted to share a mental image, but only briefly. The second my mind resisted, she resorted to words. “Montow has found a food source. When you are done being disappointed, I may require your assistance.”
“You got it, Kayan. Anything for my host.” I knocked on the door and quickly realized the material absorbed vibrations caused by my knuckle strikes. Wozim didn’t respond. I made a fist and pounded on the portal.
Nothing.
“Could I open this if I wanted to?”
Kayan made a warning sound. “Not recommended. While I am sure you are an adequate warrior, angering a Tyton in this manner is not conducive to remaining in one piece.”
“You're probably right.” I waited a while, then knocked again. Persistence could pay dividends, so I stuck with it for ten or fifteen minutes, hammering the portal every minute or two.
A slot above my eye level turned transparent. Wozim’s angry eyes stared down.
“Hey, there you are. I’m Major Noah Gantz. We’re deciding where to take the ship and I thought you might have an opinion.”
The slot closed.
Knocking and waiting soon bored me. “This guy is not winning Mister Congeniality any time soon.”
“Agreed,” Kayan said. “Humans have many strange competitions.”
“No arguments there. Show me this fungus field.” I headed for the bridge.
Montow was waiting but Grum was gone with the basket. All five screens showed variations of a cloud halfway across the system. “This is not a substance Kayan or any of her kind has used for sustenance, but the ship agrees it might have some value as fuel.”
“If I can choke it down,” Kayan said.
Montow explained without being asked. “A Gavant battle group must have come this way and eradicated the edible space fungus. Their methods for doing so are unknown to us, but most likely involve their energy weapons or certain missiles.”
“I can consume this waste and filter small amounts of the fuel I need from it.”
“So this is well-done fungus? Kind of like barbarians who char their T-bones beyond recognition?”
Montow looked over his huge sunglasses. “Who would do that? Are your people still living in caves?”
I shrugged. “What do you need me for, Kayan? You said you might need my help.”
A significant pause followed. I waited and used the time to study Montow. He seemed lost in thought. The inability to read his mind was surprisingly frustrating and I realized how intertwined I was with Kayan. Mind reading was a strong term. It wasn't like that. There was just always a connection and easy understanding between us.
No connection was perfect, of course. We still required language most of the time.
“I have completed an assessment. Barring some unforeseen malfunction of my intake mechanism, your assistance will not be needed outside,” Kayan said.
My eyes went wide and I pointed toward a holographic screen. “You mean, out there? In the void?”
“Yes. You should equip yourself with the gear I have grown for that purpose. Test the fit. Make a list of questions and suggestions. We can work out modifications when there is time.”
I smiled and spread my arms wide. Extravehicular activity had been one of my strong points in the advanced space exploration school. Theory was about to become practice.
A map image of the ship appeared in my imagination. For a moment, I was speechless. This was the first time she had successfully shared information through purely visual means.
“Do you see it?” Kayan asked.
“Yeah,” I said, then followed the map to the equipping room. Finding my way was different. Was it better? Maybe, maybe not. Following intuition as opposed to an actual map was an easier experience when it worked. I hoped I could integrate both with practice.
None of my fellow passengers accompanied me, and that was fine. For some reason, I was in a mood for relative solitude. Kayan was always with me, of course. Yet, as the days progressed, I understood that we were not one being. A time would come when we would separate.
Like when I found my way back to Earth.
Was that what I longed for? Did I have an obligation to report back to my superiors? Absolutely. Thinking about the impossible journey wrecked my mental health so I tried not to dwell on it. Dreams, nightmares, and sudden obsessions would come on their own. Why make it harder on myself?
The equipment room was another new place. The lighting was different, more of a blue or purple tone depending on which way I focused. My eyes adjusted easily and I wondered if I should find a mirror and look for other changes Kayan had made to my biology.
I raised both hands and studied them front and back. This time, I left the sleeves down. I knew what was there, more of the ship attached to my body.
“The suit is parked against the wall,” Kayan said.
I saw the device and hesitated. “It looks like a bigger version of me if I was wearing a helmet with a closed face shield.”
“This seemed the best design.” The ship tried again to present images around the edges of my vision but failed to bring them into focus. The color aura was too much like an oncoming migraine this time. I winced at the sensation.
“Are you well, Noah?”
How to explain migraine headaches? I let the topic drop. “The images you're trying to send me are making me uneasy.”
Kayan's attempt to communicate with images ended. “Always warn me if I am causing you damage.”
Again I was at a loss for words.
The suit was taller than I was and larger in other ways. I touched the front and it opened. Acting on intuition, I turned away from it and backed in. Once my arms, legs, and body made contact, the suit closed around me.
Panic overwhelmed me with surprising force. I've never been claustrophobic, and my training had considerably increased my tolerance for small spaces. Astronaut programs increased a person's ability to handle everything. Our trainers had been thorough.
There were three steps to handling a panic attack. Accept it was happening. Regulate breathing and other sensory input. Realistically evaluate the situation and adapt accordingly.
Step two was always the hardest, but I was good at it. A teenage fascination with martial arts had started my training in that arena early. Brazilian jiu-jitsu could be about competition and smashing your opponent, but there were instructors who taught the mental game well. I'd been lucky in that regard. Work smarter, not harder, that was the ticket.
Seconds passed and the suit began to feel like it was part of me. I nearly resisted. What was I becoming? Had I gone too far?
