Cold greets me. A bone-deep, icicle-breeding cold that bites my nose and makes my sides shudder. Dude’s still tucked up under my chin; a tiny ball of warmth reminding me that being warm is a thing.
Getting up is hard. Uncurling from my nest of plasform and junk, surrendering the little heat it provides, seems like a really bad idea but a little voice at the back of head, the one that reminds me of Dad, is telling me otherwise. Plus, Dude feels sick again, that too-full sensation of his weighing down my stomach.
Moving generates a thread of heat, enough to get me to my feet, but not enough to stop the shudders rippling up my sides.
As awesome as shipsuits are, there’re not nanoskins. They don’t regulate my temperature because Citlali does that… or is supposed to.
I’m pretty sure it’s colder here than it was on Stasis. My fingertips are blue and I’ve lost the feeling in my lips.
The enviros are fucked, that’s the only reason for the cold. At least there’s still oxygen, even if breathing it is like sucking down ice.
So, new goal. Don’t stop moving.
Besides, sitting here on my arse isn’t going to fix Dude.
I need to get to Medical but he doesn’t have that much time, not unless I can find a clear run through Lab One to Central, and from the jungle of fug we burnt through getting here, that’s not going to happen.
So. Medical is out. At least for now. That doesn’t leave a lot of options, but at least I’m on Lab Two. That’s something. Something that may save Dude’s fuzzy butt.
Citlali’s not any old ship. It’s one of five ships sent out from Jørn on a mission to explore the galaxy, and like any good expedition, it’s packed with scientists. Lots and lots of scientists, the kind who like sticking their noses in alien crap and seeing what they can do with it. Which isn’t good for the alien crap but is great for me. And Dude. I just have to find Mae Liu’s lab.
There’s no sign of the fug on this deck, and that’s about as good as it gets in an attempt to find Mae Liu’s lab.
It shouldn’t be this hard. I know Lab Two like I know my bedroom. Dad’s lab is on this deck, and I spend enough time wandering the corridors that I can find my way around blindfolded with the gravity turned off. Literally.
But... I don’t know. Either Mae Liu got another lab assignment before the last stasis cycle, or the Lab AI is messing with me. Seriously messing with me.
Given the fact that Lab doesn’t have a sense of humour, that seems unlikely.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that Mae Liu’s lab isn’t where it’s supposed to be.
‘Lab!’ My voice echoes in the corridor.
As on Stasis, Mae Liu’s should be on the third of the middle rings, although this time, it’s not because she’s more important than anyone else, but because she doesn’t need access to the docking bay, which suits her. Mae Liu hates going EVA, and she doesn’t so much study alien stuff as figure out how to apply what the others have discovered, to the ship. And us.
The curve on the third mid-ring distorts sound, and my voice echoes back at me in a dozen fractured words, all yelling the same thing.
I wait for the echoes to fade and try again. Just for luck.
‘Lab!’
Was that a ripple on the wall, or a trick of my imagination?
I move away from the hatch and press my hand to the wall. ‘Lab? Hey, you there?’
Nothin— Wait, what was that? Further down the corridor another ripple of light catches my eye, there then gone, like a mirage. What the fuck?
‘Did you see that?’ I ask Dude.
Dude fuzzes, the sound slow, weighed down by the too-full feeling and the beginnings of fiery blades running down his spine.
I scratch his head. ‘We’re getting there.’
I follow the ripple.
It leads me to the outer ring and around the other side of the ship, jumping first from one side of the corridor to the other and back again, like some kind of demented lightning bug. Rippling once and then gone.
Maybe Lab’s vocals are on the fritz and this is the only way she can communicate. But then, what was with the flashes of light on the walls? Why not use words or appear herself? Was there something wrong with the holo-emitters?
I tell myself to give up worrying about it, but that leaves room for other worries to intrude. Ones less pleasant, accompanied by the sweet smell of rotting flesh and the iron tang of blood.
Worry about the holos. It won’t give you nightmares.
Thankfully, the ripples stop before thinking about what’s making Lab coy leads my thoughts right back to where they were.
Lab’s given up on ripples, throwing them over in favour of a giant pulsing beacon that I’m pretty sure is bright enough to burn out the emitters, right after they burn out my retinas.
All throwing my hands up and shutting my eyes does is turn the sun-like glare into an angry red glow.
‘Lab, I see it! Tone it down.’
The blaze vanishes.
It takes a little bit for my eyes to figure that out.
I lower my arms and blink.
The world’s a little blurry but I’m pretty sure I’m standing in front of a door.
Another blink.
I’m going to have stars in my eyes for the next year, but there’s definition in the haze of colour now, and yeah, that’s a door.
One final blink and the door comes fully into focus, an all-too-familiar off-white hatch with a long deep scratch at shin height, running through the door and down the corridor.
This is Dad’s lab, but the name over the door isn’t his.
AD Tudor floats high enough I can’t miss it.
I know I’m in the right place. I know I am. For one, there’s that scratch in the holowall, a deep scar of pale grey, a metre and seventy-seven centimetres long. I know that because Captain—
A clawed hand reaching out of biogel…
I shake the image away.
It doesn’t matter how I know how long the scar is, it matters that it marks where I crashed Dad’s hoversled and that it was right in front of his lab.
The second way I know that shit is weird is this; I don’t know who AD Tudor is. Not a clue or inkling or anything else that might be an idea. That might not be a problem if I didn’t live on a ship. But I do. I know everyone. Every. One.
Whoever the fuck AD Tudor is, they don’t live on Citlali.
The lab door is open. A crack between the frame and the thin plasteel shell. My body doesn’t seem to care that its brain is still trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. It’s shifting muscles and squeezing tendons, lifting bones and curling appendages and before I know it, I’m opening the door that says AD Tudor and entering Dad’s lab.
Dad’s not AD Tudor. He’s Jori Darzi, a tall, dark-haired man who smiles as he drags me out of bed and frowns like it hurts when he grounds me, but even though the name on the door is wrong, the insides are all his, right down to the acid burn on the decking and the black mark in the centre bench.
My legs take me inside, my feet steer me past the bench with its acid burn, down the aisle between it and the shelves full of rocks and jars of minerals, all the way down the back, into the little cubby that houses the food dispenser and the toilet. They stop at the back bulkhead, the only bare and empty space in the lab. In any lab.
In all the hours I’ve spent in here, watching Dad do his thing, that blank space has never struck me as strange, but now... Now, with my feet holding me rooted in place and my hand lifting, I’m thinking that it’s more than strange. It’s downright suspicious. Or maybe that’s the command sphere blooming again deep in my skull. I can’t feel it, but just because I can’t sense something doesn’t mean it’s not there. Plus, there’s the disconnect between body and brain and the way my fingers know to press that spot right there.
The bulkhead parts, splits right down the middle and sucks itself into the wall on either side, revealing a small slither of space beyond, just big enough to wedge a person.
I wish it was a body behind the wall. This is worse.
It’s hard to imagine worse than a corpse. A minute ago I would have said a rotting corpse, but this... I really wish it was a dead person.
The black oval stuck in the wall is bigger than my chest and pulses like a metallic heart. Finger-width strands move under the surface like muscles, contracting and expanding in slow motion, and there’s this impression coming off of it, like being in the ice hull except… creepier.
I know what this is. The knowledge flows up from the back of my head, a strange mix of memories that are mine and yet aren’t.
It’s the disc I saw in h’Rawd’s and Onah’s memories. The thing AD and Dad fought over. And with that realisation come other memories, filling in the blank places in my head like they’d always been there, waiting for me to remember. And I know now what the argument was about, can remember the human words thudding in my ears, loud and jarring, making my fur bristle and skin clench even after all these years. I watch blood flush human skin, smell the anger in the air, strong enough to match mine, and I remember wishing that these hairless beasts had teeth and claws, could hear the song of the beacon so that they would understand.
The thing in the bulkhead isn’t Jøran and I know, right down to the pit of my stomach, that it’s bad. There’s a sense about it, a sinister, half-felt tingle up my spine, like a shadow lurking in the corner of my eye. I’ve felt it before, not only in the Jørans’ memories but here, on the Citlali, except it’s stronger here. I can taste it, like old meat, musty and sharp, like it’s got teeth.
The disc repulses me and yet…
My arm has a life of its own, muscles tensing, fingers stretching. The oval seems to pause a moment and then start up again, beating harder and faster than before as my fingers inch closer.
‘The specimen was recovered in the Megora system.’ The AI’s voice booms out of the walls and I swear, if we were in orbit, I’d have left it.
An AI floats next to me, or part of one. My heart settles back in my chest as I recognise the small green head and bland expression. Looks like Lab found a working holo emitter somewhere.
‘I don’t remember Megora.’
‘It is the first system out from Jørn. You were not yet conceived.’
Right. Well, that would explain that.
‘What is it?’ I point to the oval.
‘I do not know.’
‘But… it’s here.’
Lab stares at me.
‘How can you not know what it is?’
‘Details regarding the object are sealed.’
‘But you know it came from Megora.’
Lab blinks, and suddenly it’s like there’s something floating in the air between us, some secret meaning. It’s probably h’Rawd’s memories still taking up space my head, mixing with the creepiness pulsing off the disc, making me see things or rather, feel things, that aren’t there but… but Lab never blinks. Never.
I step back, pressing into the bulkhead behind, wishing I could melt right through as I remember the mad expression in Ag’s eyes, and the malice that had hung in the air.
Deep breaths, Kuma, deep breaths. It’s probably a glitch.
The AI blinks again. There’s a pause and then she does it again, eyelids moving in a rapid flutter before she stops.
My heart’s beating hard. Thumping against my ribs, and I’m halfway up the bulkhead at my back, deciding whether or not skidding over the top of the lab benches will get me out of here faster than a simple mad dash to the door.
Lab is still staring at me, expression as bland as the bulkhead, like she’s waiting for something.
I stare back, trying not to breathe too loud, in case the sound sets her off.
Lab floats closer. ‘The records are sealed, Kuma Darzi.’
What? ‘The records?’
Lab’s head turns transparent, or more transparent, a barely-there ghost over the shiny, pulsing oval stuck in the bulkhead. ‘Only the captain is authorised to unseal them.’
I swallow back memories. ‘The captain’s dead.’
‘Authority has passed to the XO.’
The memories are crawling up the back of my throat. I swallow harder. ‘Dead too.’
‘The Chief Medical Officer.’
I shake my head. ‘No.’
Lab’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s something in her eyes, or maybe it’s that she’s moved closer, her nose almost touching mine, and there’s nowhere to look but into those all-green orbs. ‘All authority rests with the highest ranking, functioning crew member.’
‘But I’m the only one…’ Oh.
Right.
‘Lab, unseal the…’ I wave at the oval. ‘The object’s record.’
Of all the things I expected to unfold in the space before me, it wasn’t the captain. She’s looking out at me, light hair and pale skin, her eyes the same brilliant blue I remembered, but instead of anger making them hard, they’re filled with something else, an emotion that makes them big and liquid. Fear. The captain was afraid.
‘Play it.’
‘If you’re seeing this, things have gone horribly wrong. The beacon we found in Megora must be destroyed. Do it now. We should have jettisoned it when Onah asked us, but AD’s argument was compelling, and I could not bring myself to let such an important piece of Jørn’s history go. But I fear that AD has done more than study it, and now that he’s missing…’ Her mouth thins, and lines appear in her forehead. Pain? Worry? More than fear, more than uncertainty. The expression makes my stomach curl in on itself and my heart contract in sympathy. ‘I don’t think we’ll find the body.’
She shakes her head and her expression firms, becomes the stern face I’m used to seeing, before she continues.
‘Onah is reporting a new wavelength in the Aer, something neither he nor the other Jørans can pin down.’ She pauses. ‘It’s the beacon. I’m sure AD found a way to amplify its signal, and then hid it. He may have even tampered with the Citlali’s navigation, but I can find no trace of it.
‘The qwans always seem so in control, but when Onah came to see me he was scared, shaken in a way I haven’t seen since the war. Whomever that beacon is calling, they terrify the Jørans more than Regan’s final stand.’ She leans close. ‘I don’t want to meet the beings who can do that. Not yet, not ever. Find the beacon and destroy it, before it’s too late.’
The captain disappears.
I’m left staring at the shiny, pulsating oval in the bulkhead. At the beacon.
I guess I found it. Except I hadn’t, not really.
Lab pops into being, her green head obscuring the beacon.
I’d been led here.
‘You knew where it was all along.’
Lab doesn’t respond, just blinks at me.
I peel myself from the bulkhead. I’m pretty sure I’m getting this now. Lab wants to tell me something, but for some reason she can’t come right out and say it. I have to ask.
‘Why didn’t you tell the captain where AD hid the beacon?’
Lab blinks.
It’s like playing twenty questions, but instead of a yes or no, I’m getting eyelids.
‘Lab, unseal all records concerning the beacon.’
‘I cannot.’
‘Why?’
‘You are not authorised.’
‘I’m the highest ranking, functional crew member.’
Lab doesn’t respond.
‘Who is authorised?’
‘Jori Darzi and Arthur David Tudor.’
Ooo-kay. Well, that puts a stop to that.
We stare at each other for a long moment.
Dude fuzzes against my neck.
‘You require a path the Medical.’
‘Yes.’
Lab nods, a strange motion for a bodiless head, and then a map springs up before me. ‘You will need tools,’ she says.