“I’m here,” Alisa said.
“I don’t know what—for a minute there, I couldn’t concentrate on anything, and then we hit something. We hit everything.”
“Yeah, we had the same experience up here. We’re not far from the mafia ship, and I don’t know what their status is. Beck and Leonidas are going out to meet them if they try to board us.” Alisa assumed that was what Leonidas had been planning when he charged out of NavCom. “Can you get me a damage report, find out if we can get back in the sky? Or in the fog, as the case seems to be.”
“I thought I’d try to get the lights turned on first,” Mica said, a hint of her usual dry humor returning, though she still sounded shaky. Alisa hoped she hadn’t hit her head.
Worrying about other people and their injuries helped Alisa steady herself, and she finally got her harness unfastened.
“Yumi?” she asked, standing up.
“I’m alive,” Yumi said quietly, still sitting in her seat. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Why don’t you check on your chickens? Go check on Alejandro, too, will you, please?”
“Yes. Where are you going?”
Alisa dropped her hand to her holster. “To make sure no mafia thugs board my ship.”
Following the emergency lighting lining the walkways, Alisa made her way down the corridor toward the cargo hold. She paused at the intersection that branched to the crew and passenger quarters, hearing several thumps coming from the direction of Leonidas’s room. He was probably getting his armor on. Since she had no armor, she continued to the cargo hold.
Irritated squawks greeted her before she reached the stairs. The poor chickens. It was a wonder they were laying any eggs at all with the constant stress of living on a spaceship. On this spaceship, at least. In the last month, the Nomad had seen more action than an Alliance warship during the war.
“Captain?” came a muffled voice from the deck of the cargo hold.
Alisa gripped the railing to guide herself down the stairs. “That you, Beck?”
He sounded like he was already in his combat armor.
“Yes, ma’am. By the hatch. The mech said we should go out and check on the other ship, said they might have crashed too. That right?”
“I’m not sure. Sensors and cameras are down. I did see them hit a cliff, but unless their shields also suspiciously dropped right before that, it wouldn’t necessarily have damaged them.”
“Suspiciously?”
“Talk later,” Leonidas said, startling Alisa as he came up behind her. His voice was gruff, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. A gentle armored hand. “Beck and I will go check. Stay here.”
He tried to guide her to the side, so he could pass her on the stairs.
Alisa stubbornly continued down. “There’s nothing I can do here. I’m going with you.”
“You won’t be able to see much out there without a helmet with night vision, Captain,” Beck said. “I think we flew past the terminator into night.”
“Unless your helmets have fog vision, you won’t be able to see much out there, either,” she said.
“Oh.”
Guided by the squawking of the chickens, Alisa found her way to the hatch, almost smacking against Beck’s armored shoulder on the way. With his night vision helmet, he saw her and stepped out of the way, stopping her with a hand out.
“It will be cold out there too,” Leonidas said from behind her shoulder.
Alisa remembered her earlier thoughts—had it just been a few hours ago?—about wishing that he was her bodyguard, or worked for her in some capacity if body guarding was too lowly for him, and that he would loom at her shoulder. This wasn’t quite how she had imagined the scenario.
“Let us go,” he added. “You’ve got your comm unit? We’ll report in to you.”
“Let’s just see what we’re dealing with. If we can get the hatch open.” Alisa found the bulkhead with her hands and patted her way to the hatch controls. The button wouldn’t work without power, but there was a mechanical override behind a panel, if she could find it in the dark. Why hadn’t she stopped in her cabin to grab her multitool and a jacket? Maybe it wasn’t too late to get them. She just hated to delay because her instincts were itching, suggesting that delaying might be a bad idea.
A beam of light appeared on the wall where she was patting around.
“Oh,” she blurted, almost ridiculously pleased. She smiled over her shoulder and found that Beck was the one providing the illumination with a flashlight built into his suit. “Thank you.”
Leonidas was a few feet farther down the wall, the panel Alisa had been searching for already open in front of him. He looked over at them, frowning slightly for some reason.
“See,” Beck said, “I’m useful, Captain.”
“I never said you weren’t useful. You make excellent duck.”
“Stand back.” Leonidas tugged on the latch, and a hiss sounded as the seal on the hatch released. He crouched by the side of it as it rose and the ramp automatically unfolded and extended.
The temperature seemed to drop thirty degrees in a second. Fog rolled into the ship, hazing over the pricks of emergency lighting on the deck of the hold.
An alarming crack came from outside, and Alisa jumped. Her first thought was that someone had fired a weapon, but she shivered when she realized what she had heard. Ice snapping. As she had noted earlier, they had landed on the frozen sea, not solid ground. Her ship, which weighed thousands of pounds, even without cargo in it, was resting on a sheet of ice. She had no way of knowing if that ice extended downward for hundreds of meters or if they were on a shelf only inches thick.
“How is there mist when it’s so cold out?” Beck asked. “The thermometer in my suit says it’s forty below out there. Isn’t mist or fog droplets of water?”
“Part of the charm of this place, maybe,” Alisa said. “You could ask Leonidas. He was reading the encyclopedia entry.”
Leonidas had started down the ramp and did not look back. It was dark outside, not as absolute as inside the ship, but Beck was right. They had left the sun behind, with twilight descending upon them. The fog did not help. It was so thick that Alisa could not see past the end of the ramp.
She started down, thinking to catch up with Leonidas before he disappeared. Outside of the ship, the temperature dropped drastically, and she rethought the wisdom of going out without a jacket. Without a jacket, mittens, scarves, boots, snow pants, and three or four blankets.
Leonidas halted at the base of the ramp and unslung the rifle on his shoulder. “Get out here, Beck.”
“Something you want me to see?” Beck was walking right beside Alisa.
“I hear people, not far from here. We’re not alone out here.”
“White Dragon people?”
“We’ll go ask with our rifles,” Leonidas said, “unless you plan to hide behind Marchenko.”
Beck lifted his head. “I do not.” He slapped his own rifle. “If they are White Dragon, they’re my problem.”
Very true, Alisa thought but did not say. She was surprised Leonidas was willing to lead the way to deal with mafia thugs who presumably wanted nothing to do with him. Though, upon reflection, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She had yet to see him shy away from any battle. It even seemed to put him in a good mood.
“Alisa,” Leonidas said, “close the hatch and wait inside. We’ll let you know if it’s safe to come out for repairs if they’re needed.”
Alisa bristled at receiving orders and also at the idea of hiding inside, but she reluctantly admitted that her Etcher wouldn’t do much good if the White Dragon crew was wearing combat armor. And without the protection of a climate-controlled suit of armor, she could freeze before she reached the other ship. Already, she was shivering as the frigid air needled right through her clothing. There wasn’t a wind—of course not, or the mist would dissipate—but the bite to the air had her stuffing her hands into her armpits.
“He
calls you Alisa now?” Beck murmured from her side.
“I told him to,” she said.
“Oh.”
“I bet he’d call you Tommy if you called him Leonidas.”
“What a treat that would be.”
“You’re not bitter about his suggestion about the celery seed, are you?”
“Yes, I am. Is that immature?”
“You did ask for his opinion.”
Beck grunted.
Leonidas walked away from the ramp, apparently trusting his ears or his sense of direction when it came to where the other ship had landed. The fog soon swallowed the bright red of his combat armor. It felt like they were on some unexplored alien world rather than Arkadius with its billions of residents. Billions of residents who were not crazy enough to live anywhere around here.
“I better go see if I can get the White Dragon more pissed with me,” Beck said with a sigh and trotted off after Leonidas.
Alisa grimaced, realizing he was right. Every time he defended himself from them, he destroyed some of their equipment, and he might have killed some of their men by now. Alisa thought back to her first encounter with them when she had dropped a cliff onto the heads of a squad of men. After that, she could not be certain that the mafia clan was only after Beck now. She might be on the list of people they were hunting for too.
“They’ll have to get in line,” she muttered and returned to the cargo hold.
The lights were still off, and it was not much warmer inside than outside. Even though she hated the idea of closing the hatch while her men were out there, she shuddered to imagine enemies sneaking into the ship while everyone was working on repairs. Alisa liked to think she could take care of herself in a fight, but she wouldn’t be a match for men in combat armor, and she knew it. With a tug of the handle, she activated the ramp mechanism, drawing it in and closing the hatch.
A lit candle appeared on the walkway above, Yumi coming to the cargo hold. Both she and the flame appeared blurry—some of that pervasive mist had found its way inside the ship and lingered in the air.
“Coming to check on your chickens?” Alisa asked.
“Yes. I didn’t know our flights would be so incident-filled when I decided to bring them along with me.”
“Sorry about that. Maybe you can sell them to a friendly Starseer who wants the insides of her ship fertilized regularly.”
Alisa wondered if the mist surrounded their temple. If so, and if they never had sun shining on them, maybe it wouldn’t be an ideal place for critters. Did Starseers keep animals for pets or livestock? She knew so little about them. Except that they did not have a reputation for being friendly toward outsiders. She remembered that tickle in her mind before she had struck the White Dragon ship. Maybe she just wanted to give herself an excuse for that crash, but she couldn’t help but think that the Starseers had seen the two ships coming into their territory and had arranged it. Was someone paying that close of attention to their borders? Or had they set up the obstacle course and now trusted in that to keep people from finding them?
“Really, Captain,” Yumi said, making her way down the stairs, “you bring up fertilizer often, but I clean their pen regularly, and I have a compost tumbler in my cabin. I’m turning their droppings into a wonderful medium for growing things.”
“You’re composting poop next to your bunk? My mom didn’t even allow passengers to eat in their cabins.”
“Sounds draconian.” Yumi smiled and crossed to the chickens, who had grown oddly quiet since Leonidas opened the hatch. Maybe they were cold.
A curse and a clank came from the direction of engineering. Alisa headed that way to check on Mica. She was surprised the lights were not back on yet, especially since the crash had been fairly controlled, all things considered. They had landed on their belly, after all. But the shields had been down for that last blast from the enemy ship. Alisa hoped the hull had not been breached.
A moan sounded, not from within the ship but from outside. It seemed to float across the frozen sea, as if some animal was out there and in pain. A snap echoed up from below, from the ice.
Alisa quickened her pace, rubbing her arms as she went. The sooner they were airborne again, the better.
“Mica?” Alisa asked, opening the hatch and poking her head into engineering. Several lanterns were propped on consoles and machinery, driving the shadows back from the room. “You might share some of your lights. Yumi is using a candle to check on her chickens.”
Mica lay on her back on a rolling platform tucked under the engine, and she pushed herself out to scowl up at Alisa.
“Judging by the expression on your face, the news is not good,” Alisa said. “Either that, or Beck’s duck skewers aren’t agreeing with you.”
“The skewers were excellent. The news is that I can’t figure out why the lights and non-emergency systems are out. I’m sure the hull is dinged up after that landing, but the engine is fine. All the connections I’ve checked are fine. The gum I’ve got holding the oxidizer valve in place is even still there.”
“Gum? That doesn’t sound ideal. Did you mention needing valve holder thingies on your shopping list?”
“Thingies?”
“Thingies.”
“I didn’t mention them on the last list, no,” Mica said. “I wanted to make sure I got my new tank.”
“I guess a tank is more exciting to cuddle with than a valve.”
“Infinitely more so, yes.” Mica pushed herself to her feet, looked around, and frowned. “Where did all this fog come from?”
“I opened the cargo hatch a few minutes ago. Beck and Leonidas went out to look around, possibly to shoot people.”
“Well, tell them to shoot the fog out of my engine room when they get back.” Mica swatted at the air. “What is this stuff? Is it corrosive?”
“I hope not.” Alisa tried to decide if the mist was denser than it had been in the cargo hold, or if she could simply see it better since there was more light in here. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“That depends.” Mica grabbed a flashlight and pointed it into an open panel. “On a quiz, how many things in engineering would you label as thingies?”
“No more than fifty percent, I should think.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’re a charming woman, Mica. We need to find you a soul mate.”
Mica stuck a wrench in the panel and grunted as she pried at something and the tool slid off, clanking on the side. “I’d settle for a good job.”
“I thought you wanted a challenging job, not a good one. What could be more rewarding than a mystery to troubleshoot?”
Mica sneered and waved at the fog.
“No need to answer that,” Alisa said. “I’ll go check on Alejandro and be back to pat you on your back when you get my lights back on.”
Mica responded, but her head was stuffed into the access panel again, and Alisa could not make out the words. Perhaps that was good. She doubted they were flattering.
Another eerie cracking of ice sounded as Alisa headed back through the cargo hold and toward the walkway. She winced and found herself stepping more lightly.
“Any idea how thick the ice is up here, Yumi?” she asked as she passed the chicken pen.
“If memory serves, the ice at Arkadius’s north pole averages from three to five meters in thickness, with ridges up to twenty meters thick.”
“Three meters?” Alisa paused with her hand on the stair railing. “That’s, uh, not as thick as I would like for it to be, considering my entire freighter is parked on it.”
She waited, hoping Yumi would tell her that the ice was plenty thick to support them, but another snap sounded outside, and Yumi gave her a bleak look. “Due to the size of the cargo hold, there’s a lot of air inside your ship. It’s highly likely that we would float once in the water.”
“Float?” Alisa stared at her. “While that’s slightly more encouraging than news that we would plummet to the bott
om of the ocean, how in the hells would we take off if the thrusters are half underwater? And for that matter, what happens if the ice refreezes around us? It’s cold enough to kick spit out there.”
Yumi shrugged helplessly. “I suggest we pray that the ice remains stable.”
“Who are we praying to? The sun gods or the Starseers who may have arranged that crash as a way of implying we’re not welcome here?”
Alisa expected Yumi to defend the Starseers and say the crash didn’t have anything to do with them and could only be blamed on the strange weather phenomenon. Instead, she shrugged again, offering another bleak look.
Alisa walked up the stairs very carefully. The mist seemed to follow her, as if whatever had come in during the short time the hatch had been open was being fruitful and multiplying. She reached for her comm unit, thinking to check in on Beck and Leonidas as she headed for Alejandro’s cabin, but her hand did not make it to her belt. A creepy sensation came over her, and the hairs on her arms stood up.
“I’m really starting to dislike this place,” she whispered and continued on, turning up the corridor to the passenger cabins.
The feeling of discomfort increased as she walked closer to Alejandro’s cabin. Maybe it wasn’t the mist bothering her, after all. Maybe he was playing with his orb.
“Odd timing for it, if so.” She knocked on his hatch.
He did not answer. She tried the latch and was glad it was not locked, since the electronic override would not have worked. When she tugged the hatch open, she found bright golden light flaring from the floor in the center of the cabin. She squinted, almost blinded after the dimness of the corridor.
Alejandro sat cross-legged next to the orb, staring down at the rainbow lights swirling within its depths, unaware that his hairy legs were on display above his shoes. He seemed mesmerized by the orb, which lay nestled on its velvet cushion inside the box, its luminescence pouring out, reflecting against all of the metal surfaces in the cabin.
“Doctor, you’re supposed to invite the captain in when she knocks at your door,” Alisa said. “It’s polite.”
He did not answer, nor did he tear his gaze from the orb. After that first cursory inspection, Alisa avoided looking at it. That was harder than it should have been. The glowing surface called to her, inviting her to look, even as gooseflesh arose all over her body, and her instincts said to get out of the cabin. She remembered the cyborg pirate Malik’s words about weak minds being affected by the artifact.