Dark Planet Warriors: The Serial (Books 1-3) (4 page)

Abbey

I’m in the outer dome of the oxygen filter plant, the huge structure that stretches over the sun-facing side of Fortuna Tau, when the announcement crackles through the speakers.

“All workers return to your quarters. I repeat, all workers return to your quarters. This is a state of emergency. Full lockdown commencing now. Do not, under any circumstances, leave your quarters unless directed to do so. This is an order from Station High Command.”

I pause mid-scrub, flicking phytogel from my gloved hands. A droplet of goop lands on my safety goggles, obscuring my vision. I rub at it, but that only makes it worse, smearing the viscous slime across the lenses.

I’m about a hundred feet above the floor of the biomeric facility, stuck between rows of oxygen filters. Every day, millions of liters of carbon dioxide is pumped through the filters, and fresh oxygen is generated through photosynthesis, to be recirculated throughout Fortuna Tau.

That’s where the green slime comes in. It sits in the filter cartridges, absorbs a bit of sunlight, and basically photosynthesizes.

In theory, genius. In practice, the filters often become blocked. That’s where I come in. Amongst the bio-sci staff, I’m pretty much the only one crazy enough to climb a hundred meters up a flimsy ladder and dodge in and out of the complex maze of filters and pipes like a monkey, scrubbing caked, green slime.

The fact that I did gymnastics as a kid probably helps. I’m not afraid of heights and my balance is pretty good.

It sounds like an awful job, but I actually like it up here. It’s quiet. I can see glimpses of the stars through gaps in the machinery. And the soft, rhythmic hum of the filter plant is actually quite soothing.

It also helps that I’m short. My body was designed for navigating small, twisty spaces.

A shrill alarm follows the announcement, along with repeated blasts of “return to quarters,” in a pre-recorded, robotic voice. I groan. I’ve just climbed all the way up here, and now I have to leave?

I peer down through an opening in the machinery, but all I can see is the green canopy of the biosphere below. My co-workers have probably forgotten that I’m even up here.

And if I don’t clear out the blocked filters now, there’s a chance the whole system could become backed up, resulting in a build up of pressure in the CO2 pipes.
 

Pressure equals explosion. The last thing we need right now is a circulation malfunction.

No doubt the Kordolians have something to do with this lockdown order. But for some reason, I feel a little less scared now. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the boss alien actually stared me down in the corridor and didn’t kill me. Even though I’d somehow offended him with my smirking.

I pull my goggles off and wipe them on my pants, removing the smear of green slime. The rickety, metal ladder stretches down the wall behind me, disappearing into the leafy thicket. I reach up with my sleeve and wipe sweat from my forehead. It’s humid up here under the thick, glass panels, and now and then, beads of condensation turn into fat droplets of water, catching me in the face or hair.

It’s the closest thing we have up here to rain.

I really miss Earth.

I decide I’m going to ignore the evacuation order and finish my work. It’s so quiet and isolated up here that I doubt anyone is going to find me. And I don’t expect the Kordolians to show any interest in the biomeric facility. Even if they do, they’ll never find me. I know every nook and cranny of this maze-like place.

I don’t want to go back to my sterile, windowless sleeping pod. What am I going to do there for the next several hours? Watch NetCom and chill?

Boring.

I grab the brush and hose, spraying a jet of cool water into my mouth before I point it at the oxygen filters. This is thirsty work.
 
As I hose off the area, bits of caked, greenish-brownish slime start to dislodge, and the wastewater falls to the forest below, feeding the trees.

I smile to myself. While everyone else is stuck in their prison-like quarters, I’ll just hide out here, and carry on with this rather enjoyable work.

Hopefully, when I’m done, the Kordolians will be gone.

I start to whistle an old Earth tune, not worrying if I’ll be discovered. Because up here, no-one can hear me.

Tarak

I find Kalan and Arkan in the lobby below, with the Human soldiers nowhere to be seen.

“Tactical retreat on their side, apparently.” Kalan shrugs. “We got the all-clear?”

“An agreement has been reached. The Humans will co-operate.” We break into a rapid jog, returning the way we came. As we turn down another, narrower passageway, an shrill announcement in some Human dialect blasts from hidden speakers, unintelligible to us.

It must be a lockdown order.

The warning is followed by a shrieking alarm, blasted at incredibly high volume.

With my headache throbbing at full force, it’s almost too much for my sensitive hearing. Pain shoots behind my eyes, blurring my vision. I slow down.

Kalan and Arkan glance backwards in alarm, sensing my drop in pace.

“Return to ship,” I bark over the noise of the siren, not wanting them to see my weakness. “I have something to do here. Tell Rykal to prepare a list of requirements for the Humans and get them to work. Dissolve the Human soldiers, but keep their female commander as a translator. She seems to have some sense. I will join you afterwards.”

“Sir!” Without another word they take off, not sparing me a second glance. That’s what I like about this team. They follow my orders to the letter.
 

And there’s no way I’m letting them know that all I need right now is a rest.

To ease the fucking pain in my head. When will that Kaiin-cursed Human noise stop? Why do they have to make it so loud? Are Humans partly deaf?

I will my helmet to retract, taking a deep breath, suddenly needing fresh air.

There’s that scent again.

It’s exotic, fragrant, carrying with it a hint of mystery. It’s like nothing I’ve ever smelt before. It’s complex, with hints of sweetness and bitterness combined.

It smells of
her
, the female scientist. That strange, tiny Human, who turns a delicate shade of pink when confronted and blabbers nonsense through her tiny lips.

That infernal siren wails on and on, and I’m about to go to my knees with the agony of it. I close my eyes, following the scent, allowing it to lead me as it becomes stronger, more intoxicating.

It’s as if the Goddess Kali has wound her ephemeral tendrils around me and I’m powerless to resist as she pulls me along. I’m almost forgetting my headache as I find myself outside a glass doorway.

A pair of terrified Humans stumble past, glancing up at me in horror as I walk past. They make no effort to stop me as I stride beyond the entrance.

I travel down a narrow, brightly lit corridor and come out in a space I can only describe as impossible.

The scent is overwhelming here, surrounding me and filling my lungs. The air is cooler, cleaner, and all around are signs of life. Vegetation. Strange, exotic fruits, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Bizarrely shaped flowers. Colors I never knew existed.

Things like this could never grow on Kythia. There’s not enough light.

The space is housed in a giant, dome-like structure, lined with orderly arrays of panels. Real light from the sun filters through the gaps between the panels, causing me to squint, the bright, ultraviolet light blurring my vision. I command my nanites to form a pair of light-goggles, shielding my eyes. But I leave the rest of my face uncovered, savoring the clean, fresh oxygen.

The infuriating siren has finally stopped. I exhale slowly, trying to force the tension from my body. My head is still killing me, but it’s not as bad as before.
 

I just need a moment, to close my eyes and forget the noise and pain.

Just a short moment, away from it all.

Even I have my bad days.

I need to rest, even if it’s just for a few counts. I spot a bench type structure alongside a winding path that leads into thick vegetation.

I’ll lie down until my headache is less severe. I can’t afford to be walking around with blurred vision, sensitive to every alarm because of this ridiculous pain. I can’t afford to take sedatives, either. Not when there are Xargek larvae crawling around the station. I have to be alert.

I need to restore my level of functioning. This vegetation dome seems as good a place as any for that purpose. The Humans have all left, and it’s mercifully quiet. If any Xargek appears, I’ll be able to hear its insectoid skittering long before it can attack.

I lay my swords on the floor beside the bench and lie down, closing my eyes. I allow the sun-goggles to dissolve, because the mild warmth beating down on my face from the bright star above is actually quite pleasant.

It’s a rare moment of weakness, but for me, it’s necessary. The headaches have been getting worse and worse. But for this type of work, I need a clear head. I need the pain to be gone.

The scent of Earth vegetation and fruit seems to have healing properties. Because my pain starts to melt away. And as I slow my breathing to its lowest possible rate, and force my heart rate down, I hear something.

Strange, Human sounds. An odd, wordless type of singing, soft and uneven.

It should be irritating. But somehow, I don’t mind it at all. It’s imperfect and uniquely Human.

I open my eyes just briefly, and squint. The sound’s coming from the roof of the dome. Between the panels.

It’s
her
. Her scent reaches my sensitive nose, mingling with the smell of chemicals and sweet fruits and fragrant blooms.

I thought all Humans were confined to quarters. Is this one defying Station orders?

The panels are suspended high above the vegetation. I can’t see much. Is the female really up there? There’s no way I’m climbing the flimsy looking structure to find out.

Instead, I close my eyes, waiting for the pounding in my head to subside.

Abbey

After I finish cleaning the cluster of blocked oxygen filters, I’m covered in green gunk. The mush has a strange leafy smell, liked chopped celery. My hair is matted with sweat, and my protective goggles are smeared with the green stuff again. I pull them off, stuffing them in the top pocket of my scrubs.

Grabbing the narrow rails of the ladder with my gloved hands, I balance precariously, making a slow descent. The ladder creaks a little as it takes my weight.

My late father would have had a fit if he saw me like this. As the chief scientist of a big biotech company on Earth, he was big on the whole occupational health and safety side of things.

Here on Fortuna? They’re not so big on that stuff.

What happens in deep space, stays in deep space, right?

Station Boss Emin runs a tight ship. Rumors are he cuts costs and skims a little on the side for himself, depositing it in a secret off-planet tax haven.

Apparently that’s the reason they’ve started having lights-off during the night-cycle. In order to save electricity, we have to walk around the dark corridors with freaking headlamps on.

Tightasses.

I reach the floor and make my way down the narrow, winding path that takes me past a row of hyper-productive fruit trees. In the biomeric facility, we’ve got supergrafted Earth trees jacked up on plant growth factors. The current growth cycle for apples from bud to fruit is one week. The trees supplement the oxygen filters, cleaning the air.

That’s why it always smells fresh in here.

The outside, especially the quarters, can get a bit stinky, at times. That’s what happens when you have thousands of human beings crammed into a giant, floating rust-bucket.

That’s why I’d much prefer to hide out in the biomeric dome during a Kordolian takeover. Not to mention there’s all the apples, peaches and cherries I can eat.

As I reach the little bend in the path near the front entrance, I freeze.

Someone is staring at me.

“You!” I gape at the Kordolian. He’s sitting on the bench we jokingly call the loveseat. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

“Human.” A look of displeasure crosses his face. He’s wearing funny little blacked-out sun-goggles. They look like an extension of his freaky nano-armor. “You were ordered to return to your chambers.”

He stands up, grabs a pair of menacing looking blades, securing them at his back as he approaches me. “Why have you disobeyed the orders of your Station Boss?”

“I was in the middle of a critical task.”

“You would disregard your own safety for the sake of your work?”

“See those oxygen filters up there? I was cleaning them. So they don’t blow up. My
work
ensures a clean air supply. So I’m sorry if you were upset I didn’t rush back to my pod, but other stuff took priority. Like making sure everyone has air to breathe.” I narrow my eyes, taking in the Kordolian’s intimidating appearance. He’s good at looming threateningly, this one. His grey lips are pressed together in disapproval. He takes another step forward, and I shuffle backwards, scoping out the nearest escape route from the edge of my vision.

If I had to, I’d probably climb back up into the filter plant. He looks too heavy to go up there.

I hope his nano-suit doesn’t allow him to fly. That would complicate things.

Do Kordolians fly?

“Do all Human females have such little care for decorum?” He looks me up and down critically, my reflection flashing in his black goggles.

“Decorum?” I stifle a laugh. The word sounds so old-fashioned, even in Universal. I know I must look terrible, with green gunk staining my work attire and my hair tousled like a bird’s nest. “This is a mining station. We’re here to work. You know how hard it is not to chip a nail when you’re scrubbing caked-up phytogel? That’s why I keep these babies short.” I wriggle my gloved fingers. “I don’t know what you guys expect of your ladies back home, but this is the twenty-fourth century. I’m not out to impress anyone.”

“Hm.”