Prophets (34 page)

For all the excitement in the air, the actual jump was anticlimactic. A short series of warning klaxons, a brief flicker as all the holo displays on the bridge reflected the instantaneous changes rendered in the universe outside and in the systems of the
Voice.
Even so, a subdued cheer went up on the bridge that was even shared by the command staff. The
Prophet's Voice
had made it. It had tached a distance quadruple that of any prior drive design. Admiral Hussein didn't join in the cheering, but he did smile. For a people whose history was tainted with humiliation and oppression, this vessel represented a high point. It was
here
when the Caliphate surpassed the rest of humanity.

The bridge crew moved quickly from congratulations back into routine. Things had gone smoothly. They were in orbit around the star HD 101534. During the nonevent of firing the tach-drive, the universe had moved on for a little over twenty-eight days standard.

A blue planet hung in the holo display, their destination.

Is that right?
Admiral Hussein thought to himself, reviewing the ranging readout next to the planet's display. It was the first sign that this mission was diverging seriously from the plan.

“We are confirmed two-point-two-five million kilometers from target,” called an ensign from the nav station repeating what the numbers on the main display told them. That was a serious navigational error; the
Voice
was supposed to tach in at least two AU from their target. The
Voice
's tach-drives were so powerful that they could be dangerously disruptive to any native tach-drives that might be active close to the planet. They had come in way too close.

It was almost certain, at this range, that the residents of this planet had already detected their presence. If not simply by a visual contact, the
Voice
was close in enough for the energy spike of their arrival to be detectable on the surface of the planet.

It took thirty seconds for the other shoe to drop. An NCO at the comm station announced, “We have a distress beacon at oh-point-seven-five million kilometers from target.”

Admiral Hussein rubbed his temple. This was a worst case scenario, their arrival damaging some native vessel. At best, it was a horrifying diplomatic misstep; at worst, it could be interpreted as an act of war.

Captain Rasheed ordered the communications officers to attempt contact with the distressed ship and assess its situation.

The main holo changed from the planet to show a blocky cargo ship tumbling through space with ragged holes where much of the drive section should have been. Clouds of debris and venting atmosphere followed the craft. The ranging readout showed the craft at a little over a million kilometers from the
Voice
, almost directly between them and the planet.

“Sirs, I have a transponder signal. It's standard encoding, and identifies the ship as the
Eclipse,
owned by the Mosasa Salvage Corporation, registered on Bakunin.”

“Bakunin?” Hussein repeated along with Captain Rasheed.

“Yes, sir.”

The crippled vessel was over ninety light-years away from anywhere it had a right to be. Everything had suddenly become a lot more complicated.

Sometimes your allies are chosen for you.

—
The Cynic's Book of Wisdom

Survive first, all else comes after.

—MARBURY SHANE (2044-*2074)

A little over thirty minutes after Kugara taped Nickolai to the wall, Wahid's voice came over the PA system. “We made it! We fucking made it!”

I guess that means the colony, not to mention the star, is still here.
She allowed herself a small measure of relief and looked across at her prisoner.

She hadn't wanted to be the one to guard Nickolai, but her years as an enforcer for the DPS had given her the training to handle someone like him. She was probably the only one in seventy light-years who could. Mosasa was certainly aware of that.

Mosasa's voice followed Wahid. “We are currently approaching a planetary orbit, and we will commence landing procedures as soon as our drives are cold. That will be approximately twelve hours.”

“As a precaution,” he continued, “anyone who is not bridge crew, please remain in your cabins unless absolutely necessary.”

She was stuck here for twelve
hours?

Kugara shook her head. She stood in the corner of the room opposite the wall where she had secured Nickolai. If their situation hadn't been so dire, it might have been comical. Kugara's restraints on Nickolai looked almost like a DPS academy hazing.

Nickolai hadn't been beaten, dragged through the slush, or taped to a freezing metal pole. She briefly remembered participating, dousing vodka on the skin of shivering plebes and igniting it, watching the blue flames ripple across naked skin before burning themselves out. The alcohol content was never quite enough to do permanent physical damage, but the poor bastards training to be part of the DPS didn't know that, and with their heads taped to the pole, they couldn't see the vodka burning, allowing them to imagine the worst.

Kugara remembered laughing at the screams when the victims lost the ability to tell cold from heat, and felt the sting of ice on their arms as if it was a branding iron.

She stared at Nickolai and thought,
And you called me an Angel?

Kugara didn't like the universe's sense of humor.

The room was silent for a long time before Nickolai finally spoke. “Why haven't you asked me?”

Why didn't I gag you?
“Ask you what?”

“Why?”

Kugara shook her head. “I don't care. I'm a hired gun, and I'm not paid to care about your motives. Not unless Mosasa orders me to do an interrogation. I don't think you want that.”

There was another long silence, and then Nickolai said, “I apologize for what happened on the observation deck.”

“What?” For a moment Kugara was confused. Things had happened too quickly for her to fit Nickolai's confession—the little Mosasa had passed along—into her memory of events on the
Eclipse
.

It struck her much harder than it should have when she realized what his apology meant. “That's when you rigged the tach-comm!”

It was all crap, from their first meeting onward, a way to distract the one member of the crew that had any training to deal with him. He probably knew enough about her history with the DPS to know exactly how she was going to react when he brought up his damn furry theology.

“I—” Nickolai started to say.

“Shut up. Don't say another word, or I ignore the fact Mosasa wants you in shape for questioning.” She could easily picture herself slowly tearing bits of flesh away from him, not even for the sake of gaining information, just to teach the tiger a lesson. She was no stranger to that kind of procedure; she had broken people with little more than a pocketknife.

And she hated him for making her remember that.

Over the next couple of hours, the PA broadcast updates; no communication from the planet; drive continuing to cool down; other ship's systems nominal. About three hours into the silent ordeal, Tsoravitch, who'd taken over the role of bridge communications officer, announced, “We have a transmission from the planet. They're giving us communications and landing protocols.”

“About time,” Kugara whispered. “We've been calling them for three hours.”

“Maybe they don't want us here.” Nickolai said.

“What?”

“They came out here for a reason. Maybe they don't welcome visitors from their past.”

Kugara opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped herself. It was a possibility that should have been patently obvious to any native of the Fifteen Worlds. Dakota certainly wouldn't welcome an unannounced visitor from anywhere, Grimalkin wasn't much better.

Twenty minutes later the whole cabin shook.

“What the hell?” Kugara said, trying to keep her feet as the ship violently vibrated. Emergency klaxons sounded, and the cabin lights began flashing red.
That's the signal for a hull breach!

Parvi's voice came over the PA, “Everyone to the nearest lifeboat/cabin now! We've had a critical overlo—”

Her voice was cut short by the sound of a massive explosion that threw Kugara toward the ceiling. As she fell back down, she could feel the weight of her body sucking away, telling her that the gravity manifolds were failing. When she hit the floor again, she bounced lightly off.

The lights in the cabin died, plunging both of them into complete darkness. The PA no longer spoke, and for a few moments the only sound in the cabin came from the two of them breathing.

“Were we attacked?” Nickolai whispered.

“I don't know,” Kugara answered. She fumbled for a handhold in the dark and found one next to the door. She pulled herself against the wall. Through the wall she could feel vibrations that made her stomach churn.
Something overloaded the power plant,
she thought.
Emergency power should be returning shortly . . .

As if in response to her thought, a dull red light came on above the doorway. Then it began flashing rhythmically.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered through clenched teeth. She opened the console next to the door and confirmed her fears.

“What is it?” Nickolai asked.

“Shut up!” she yelled at him, as if there was anything she could have done at this point. The emergency systems had fully taken over. The cabin was sealed. She tried to get the comm to the rest of the
Eclipse
responsive, but the cabin's connection to the rest of the ship was dead.

The display, unresponsive to her touches as it was, helpfully showed a schematic of the cabin's systems. Power and life support were now on a fully closed loop, helpfully illustrated by two animated arrows pointing at themselves. Six colored blocks connected the square cabin schematic to the rest of the schematic of
Eclipse.

One of the blocks turned from green to yellow to red. The small block on the screen broke in half. At the same time a pop like a rifle shot resonated through the walls of the cabin.

“Kugara?” Nickolai asked.

The first block faded from red to black as the next block broke in half. Another rifle shot shook the walls of the cabin. She shook her head.

“Kugara?”

“It's the escape sequence,” she whispered. Another shot resonated through the skin of the cabin. This time the vibration didn't fade away completely. Holding on to the wall next to the display, Kugara had the morbid sense of being trapped inside a loose tooth. “This cabin's about to be blown free from the rest of the ship.” Another rifle shot and the vibrations were noticeably larger in amplitude. “If there's even still a ship on the other side of this door.”

She pushed off the wall and grabbed the edge of the cot, the only piece of furniture in the room. She braced her feet on the floor and lifted, folding it into the wall, slamming it shut.

Another rifle shot; this time the sound of twisting and grinding metal accompanied the amped-up vibrations.

She pushed off and grabbed the handle of a yellow-and-red outlined panel in the wall. She pulled it open, and a padded bench with crash webbing unfolded. She pulled herself into it and spared a glance at Nickolai, bound to the wall. She muttered, “Shit!” as the last rifle shot echoed through the cabin.

The shot was followed by a thundering roar, and suddenly they were no longer weightless. Kugara felt herself sinking deep into the padding beneath her as the whole cabin shook. The floor of the cabin was now the wall behind her, and Nickolai was secured sideways on the wall to her left.

She stared at Nickolai and could see the strain on the sealant tape as his body pulled against it. His head bent toward her and slightly away from the wall, and his lips curled back in a snarl revealing his massive teeth. His head shook with the vibrating cabin. The cabin jerked, and Kugara winced in sympathy as his head slammed back against the wall.

“Nickolai!” she called out to him, the shaking cabin giving her voice a manic vibrato.

He grunted something and shook his head. She didn't know if he was telling her he was okay or that he wasn't. A shiny thread of saliva and blood trailed from his lips to the wall/floor where Kugara had strapped herself in. The vibration stopped, but the acceleration continued.

“The engine's going to burn until the computer thinks we're clear,” she yelled above the sound of the engine. The acceleration wasn't painful, two, maybe two and a half gees. But it kept going. And going.

She didn't know the full specs on the
Eclipse
's lifeboats, but it was very unlikely that they packed more than a few minutes' worth of fuel. The job of the disposable engines on these things was to get the lifeboat clear of dangerous debris, and if possible maneuver the boat toward rescue . . .

Or a habitable planet
.

The acceleration cut out, leaving them both in free fall again. Over the PA system a computer-generated voice said flatly, “Three hours until atmospheric insertion.”

“Atmospheric insertion?” Nickolai said. His voice was a little bubbly, blood massing at the corner of his mouth.