Endurance: The Complete Series Page 5

  “Yes, sir! I’ll suit up and bring it out right away.”

  “No, you’re staying here. Just get it ready.”

  “Aw …”

  Just as he was about to head back out, his interface beeped. “Bridge paging you,” the computer announced.

  “Answer.”

  Ivanokoff’s voice came through in a booming bass. “We are having a problem with the computer, sir.”

  Of course they were. “What about it?”

  “It seems that someone has accessed our internal database.”

  “That’s hardly unusual, Lieutenant. There are over a dozen consoles with full access to …”

  “From outside the ship.”

  “… the complete database, and …” It took a moment for the words to reach Thomas’s brain. “From outside the ship?”

  “Da. I thought perhaps it would be an appropriate time to arm the crew with …”

  “No, don’t do that!” Thomas said with more than a little alarm. “The last thing we need is to start a war with these people. Maybe they’re just …”

  “Invading our system, sir?”

  “Trying to learn more about us, Lieutenant.”

  Ivanokoff grumbled. “Very well. I will wait.” He cut the line.

  Thomas rushed back to the exit ramp. Areva and Chris looked at him with concern. “Is something wrong?” Areva asked.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We’re going back out.”

  * * *

  The second time they descended the ramp, the two aliens were standing in the same place, except Blue Suit now had the six-inch cube held in two hands in front of him. Red Dress once again lifted her right hand in mimicry of Thomas’s greeting.

  “Um, hi,” Thomas said. “Look, I know you don’t understand me …”

  “But of course we do,” said Red Dress.

  Thomas blinked. Areva squeaked. Chris gasped, then said, “I understand them now!”

  “Yes. So do I.” Thomas cleared his throat, staring at Red Dress. “How did you …”

  Blue Suit held out the box and said, “This is our communication enhancement facilitator.” Now that the aliens spoke again, Thomas realized the English words were coming from the box, while the aliens themselves were still producing the oscillating noises. “We connected it to your ship’s wireless data transfer system and downloaded your language files. There were over one thousand of them! We were very pleased with such a find.”

  “So now the facilitator can translate between our two kinds,” said Red Dress. “Let us try our initial meeting once more. Hello. Welcome to the World of Infinite Tones. I am Echo, third leader of the People of Tone, and this is my assistant, Note. We are in charge of greeting visitors to our planet.”

  “We are very pleased to meet you,” said Note with a small bow.

  “Um, my name is Thomas …” Thomas blinked at the box as it began producing the noises of the aliens’ language in time with his words. “Er, Captain Thomas Withers. We’re from the planet Earth.”

  The two aliens’ antennae tilted forward at an inquisitive angle. “The planet … Dirt?” Echo asked.

  “No. Earth.”

  “That is what I said. Dirt. You call your planet Dirt?”

  “No.” Thomas shook his head. What was wrong with the translator box?

  “Actually, I think we do,” Chris said. “Technically, earth is just another word for dirt. They probably only have one word that corresponds to it.”

  Thomas rolled his eyes. “Fantastic.”

  “What do you call yourselves?” Echo asked.

  Before Thomas could answer, Chris said, “Earthlings.”

  “Hmm. Dirt People.” Echo flashed a concerned glance at Note. “Well, I suppose not everyone is gifted with creative nomenclature. Your world still has more forms of speech than most we have encountered. We are very grateful to you for sharing them with us.”

  “We didn’t really mean to do that,” Thomas said, crossing his arms. Or trying to. The spacesuit made it a little difficult. “You hacked into our system. We’d usually take that as an aggressive act.”

  “Oh my.” Echo’s antennae drooped, and she bowed her head. “Our deepest apologies. We thought you wished to facilitate communication with us, and this is our usual method of doing so. We had no idea we had offended you.”

  This could work to his advantage. Thomas felt his confidence start to return as he slipped into the mode he used when he wheedled information out of criminals. “There is a way to make it up to us. We’re trying to go back to Earth,” or Dirt, he thought, “and we need some chrioladium to repair our ship. We thought your planet might have some deposits of it. Or of the minerals we need to make it, at least.” He hoped the compound’s name was in the language files these people had downloaded, or the conversation would get a lot more complicated.

  Apparently it was. “Oh, yes, of course. We have a great deal of it.” Echo bobbed her head. “We would be happy to provide you with all that you need. Assuming the Haxozin approve, of course.”

  “The who?”

  She made a squawking sound that the box translated as “laughter.” “You are a funny people. Imagine not knowing about the Haxozin.”

  Thomas exchanged blank glances with Areva and Chris. “No, we really don’t know about them.”

  Her face turned serious. “Truly? Your world has not been visited?”

  All three officers shook their heads.

  Echo began speaking frantically. “Then you must go back there. Before they find you here. Go, quickly!” She planted two hands on Thomas’s shoulders and one on Areva’s and began trying to shove them back up the ramp. Beside her, Note pushed Chris backward in the same way.

  “Hold on,” Thomas said. “We still need the chrioladium. And just who are these Haxozin?”

  “No time!” Echo glanced over her shoulder toward one of the buildings. “There are some here in the capitol. They have probably already sensed you. If you do not leave now, they will …” Her voice died as the door to the building opened.

  A group of five beings in full-body suits and helmets marched out in perfect lockstep. Thomas recognized military precision when he saw it and started to wish he’d brought Ivanokoff along after all, particularly when he spotted the cylindrical devices they carried on straps over their shoulders—weapons.

  Though they each had two arms and legs, the marchers’ actual appearance was completely obscured by their suits, which were dyed a deep shade of red. The suits were bulky, suggesting armor, but the soldiers’ movement indicated it was made of flexible material. Their guns were shaped like miniature bazookas but carried like rifles, with gleaming metal barrels and handgrips worn from frequent use.

  The group crossed the courtyard in seconds and came to a halt a meter from where Thomas was standing. Echo drew back and folded all three of her hands in front of her stomach, bowing her head and lowering her antennae.

  Note hesitated, his hand still on Chris’s shoulder.

  Without warning, one of the soldiers raised his weapon and fired a blast of energy straight into the back of Note’s leg. The man squawked in pain and collapsed, clutching at his injured thigh with all three arms and writhing on the ground. Echo turned her face away and took a shaky breath.

  The translator box lay abandoned on the ground, but it still worked to convey Echo’s words as she spoke up. “Venerated Haxozin, these strangers to our world claim not to know of your might. They attempted to leave without first meeting you. Note and I tried to stop them, but as you can see, they outnumber us.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward Thomas as she spoke, then again focused on the ground.

  Way to throw us under the bus, Thomas thought, his ambiguous feelings toward the People of Tone rapidly turning to dislike.

  He raised his hands in what he hoped was a posture of nonaggression. “Look, we don’t want to fight with you. We’re just trying to get back to our own planet, Earth, and we needed some minerals you people have here.”

  “Planet Di
rt?” One of the Haxozin stepped forward and studied Thomas. “The Haxozin Sovereignty has not heard of such a place. Where is it?”

  A deep-seated instinct told Thomas not to answer that question precisely. “Several lightyears from here. And it’s ‘Earth,’ not ‘Dirt.’”

  “That is what I said. Dirt.”

  Thomas sighed. “Okay, then, Dirt.”

  The soldier’s helmet tilted upward as he gazed at the Endurance. “How did you travel so far in such a small ship?”

  “You’re asking a lot of questions,” Thomas said. “I’d like to know who you are so that we can have this conversation properly.”

  In response, all five soldiers stepped forward and aimed their weapons at Thomas. He raised his hands but maintained eye contact with the lead soldier’s helmet. Never show fear to a bully, he reminded himself. “Hey, we don’t want trouble.”

  “You already have it,” the soldier said.

  He lifted the gun and slammed it across Thomas’s spacesuit helmet. Thomas managed to get an arm up to defend himself, but the blow still sent him reeling to the ground, and his head smacked against the inside of the helmet as he hit the dirt. Stars blinked in his field of vision as a pair of Haxozin boots appeared in front of his face and another blow fell across his back. He grunted in pain and tried to push himself back to standing, but the Haxozin seized his helmet and began bashing his head against the ground. Someone screamed in the background as Thomas tried to free himself, but each impact with the ground sent more white stars flickering in front of his eyes.

  The whiteness began fading to black, and Thomas felt his grip slip from his attacker’s hands. His head contacted the ground again, and he dropped into darkness.

  * * *

  He glared down the sight of his gun, the scope trained on Pierre Callahan’s head. Pierre held his own gun pointed back at Thomas. Thomas’s eyes trailed over his opponent, looking for a weakness in the full-body armor the man wore. He couldn’t see one. The only viable target was Pierre’s skull.

  “Lieutenant,” said a voice in his ear. “Keep him talking. Reinforcements are on their way.” He recognized Captain Liu’s confident tone and nodded silently to himself. The motion wouldn’t carry over the intercom interface, but Thomas felt reassured by it anyway.

  “You’re damaged goods, Pierre,” he said, circling to edge the other man toward the ticket counter near the wall. The lunar plaza only had one exit to the surface, and Thomas currently stood between it and his target, but he wanted to keep the man away from the tram tunnels as well. He doubted they’d make a good escape route, but Pierre was slippery, and it had taken most of five years to finally catch up to him. No sense in taking chances.

  “They’ll take me back,” Pierre said, matching Thomas’s moves.

  “You really think so? Knowing we found you? Knowing you could have led us the rest of the way up the chain? Face it, Callahan, even if you get out of here, you’re done with the Uprising.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Pierre stepped back toward the counter. “Either way, I’m not giving myself over to you. And I know you’re not gonna shoot me, because you need the information up here.” He used his free hand to tap his head.

  “That’s good, Thomas,” said Captain Liu via the interface. “Keep him going. We’ll overwhelm him and take him alive. This one’s in the bag.”

  Movement behind the counter caught Thomas’s eye. Good lord, there were people back there. They must not have been able to get out with the rest of the crowd before the showdown started. He immediately stopped moving forward, not wanting Pierre to notice the potential hostages.

  Pierre took another step back anyway. “I don’t see you dropping your weapon, Lieutenant.”

  “That’s not going to happen. In a few minutes, this place will be swarming with officers”

  “In a few minutes, another train will come, and this place will be swarming with civilians, too. Plenty of targets, plenty of chaos. I guess we’ll just play a game to see whose party arrives first, huh?”

  One of the hiding people—from the sound of it, a little boy—whimpered.

  It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough.

  Pierre’s head whipped toward the counter. “Don’t move!” Thomas shouted, but it did no good. Pierre disappeared behind the counter and reappeared a moment later, dragging a dark-skinned woman with long hair. From her outfit, she was probably a mid-level businesswoman, here on her daily commute. She struggled against his grip, but froze when he pressed the gun to her temple. Tears began running down her cheeks.

  Pierre’s face lit up. “Looks like I don’t need to wait for the train after all. You know how I deal with hostages. Don’t make me perform a live replay for you. You can’t shoot me, and your people won’t be here in time. So let me go. Or she dies.”

  The woman let out a low moan that turned into a sob.

  Thomas knew the situation was being transmitted through his intercom interface, but he reported it to convey the urgency. “Withers paging Captain Liu, be advised that this is now a hostage situation!” He didn’t lower his e-gun.

  “We’re on our way. Do not let him leave.”

  “One chance, Lieutenant. For her, anyway. I’ve got more of them back here.”

  Liu repeated, “We’ll be there in just a few seconds, Thomas. Do not engage.”

  Pierre shoved the woman to the ground and pointed his gun down at her. “Drop your weapon!”

  “Don’t touch her!” Thomas said. “Or I’ll put an energy blast through your brain.”

  “Negative!” shouted Captain Liu in his ear. “Do not engage! We need him alive.”

  “Sir, he has a …”

  “Collateral damage, Lieutenant. This is an order: Do not engage.”

  The woman’s sobs grew louder.

  Thomas kept his sights centered on Pierre’s head. “Let her go.”

  Pierre sneered. “I see I need to demonstrate my determination.” He began to pull back on the trigger.

  Thomas fired.

  Pierre staggered backward. His gun went off, firing into the floor several meters away. The woman screamed. So did everyone else behind the counter.

  Pierre Callahan crumpled into a heap on the floor, a hole in his head, right between his eyes.

  Thomas stared down at the body. There was no going back from this.

  “Thomas?” Captain Liu’s voice rang out over the intercom. “Thomas, what happened? Tell me you didn’t shoot him. Thomas?”

  “Thomas. Thomas Withers. Captain of the UELE Endurance. How very interesting that you should come here today.”

  Thomas blinked the bleariness out of his eyes. His head felt like someone had driven a screwdriver into the side of it, and the bright light in the room wasn’t making it feel any better. He squinted and took a look at his surroundings—stark, stone walls forming a room about three meters on each side, completely empty except for him and the high-intensity light panels lining the ceiling.

  He tried to stand up and discovered that he couldn’t move his arms. Or his legs. Or the rest of his body, for that matter. He frowned and looked down at himself. His limbs and torso were secured to a metal chair with a thick kind of wire. Apparently he’d been tugging against it during the dream, because the wire had left angry welts on his skin.

  His skin.

  Where was his spacesuit?

  Thoughts of alien viruses invading his body and infecting him with all of their hideous maladies made him shudder, and he began trying to work one of his hands free from the wire around his wrist.

  “Do not do that,” said a voice behind his left ear.

  Thomas would have jumped a foot out of the chair if he hadn’t been tied down. “Who are you?” he asked. It came out a little squeaky.

  “We are the Haxozin.” Footsteps sounded behind him, and one of the red-armored soldiers walked around to stand in front of him. He held a translation box in his hand. The device took the sibilant sounds he was making and projected them as a deep man’s voi
ce. “And you are uninvited visitors to our territory.”

  “About that.” Thomas fought the rise of fear in his chest. “We’ve never encountered an alien species before. We don’t have any immunity against the diseases you might be carrying …”

  “We have analyzed the computer files taken from your ship. You have no illnesses that are a threat to us, nor we to you.”

  Thomas peered up at him, which was difficult in the bright light. “Then why are you still wearing your suit?”

  The Haxozin didn’t answer that. He paced around to stand behind the chair again and leaned in close beside Thomas’s head. “Why have you infiltrated one of our conquered worlds?”

  Thomas recognized the interrogation tactic—avoid the subject’s sight, invade their personal space—and knew he was in for a rough time. “We’re not infiltrating anything. We’re lost. We need chrioladium to fix our ship and return home.”

  “To the planet Dirt.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Where is this planet?”

  “Far enough away that we won’t bother you again.” Thomas hadn’t missed the word “conquered,” and he didn’t want the Haxozin to get any ideas about Earth. “Let me ask you a question. Have you hurt anyone on my ship?” There went that possessive reference again.

  “Not yet.” The Haxozin circled back into his view. “We have the loud one, but the female one evaded our capture. Where is she?”

  So Chris had been taken, too. Thomas hoped he knew enough not to give anything away. But then, with his paranoid theories, Chris was probably used to keeping information a secret. The female one was obviously Areva, whom he assumed had gone back to the ship once the coast was clear. “I have no idea where she is.”

  The Haxozin studied his expression, then hauled off an enormous punch and struck Thomas across the face. The blow carried enough force to whip his head to the side and throw his entire body against the restraints.

  “Hey!” he said. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “I doubt that very much,” said the Haxozin. “But let us talk about your ship instead. How does it travel faster than light?”