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Authors: Edward W. Robertson
Tags: Nightmare
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orders?"
"There are none. Defeat was not planned for. We decide on our own."
I bowed to the captain. "I believe the Way has spoken. It has denounced our attack. There is only one thing we can do: pick up our brothers and go home."
"We cannot give up now!" Tton said.
Ffel let his limbs hang from his side. "What else is there to achieve? Our army has failed. This ship, this crew, how would we hope to take the planet by ourselves?"
"We do not have to take it." Tton raised his sensepods from his back, clacking his claws tight. "We can destroy it. Unleash the nukes. Once the clouds have snuffed the last of their sparks, then it will be ours. Who is with me?"
For a moment, the bridge was as still as the surface of a windless pond. One by one, the crew stood and joined Tton's side.
6
As she watched the explosion roil through the darkness, Rada's mouth fell open. She began to speak into her comm, but something stopped her. Later, she would realize it had been survival instinct.
"Captain," Genner choked. "What do we do?"
"Let's see if we can talk to them." Parson's voice elevated. "Wish I were outside right now. If I were, I'd hole up. Head down. And stay down until I knew what was going on."
It sounded like nonsense. Half drunk, Rada took a moment to understand: he was talking to her. She turned and ran down the icy ramp toward the shelf. After taking three steps, she skidded to a stop.
For the last few days, she'd been down in the abyss. Being in that headspace was agonizing, but if there was a silver lining, it was that it had left her as clear-sighted as she'd ever been. The attackers had arrived and destroyed the Box Turtle without so much as saying hello. Rada knew exactly what was going on.
They knew about the Swimmer vessel. They'd come to take it for themselves. And to kill those who'd discovered it.
The Turtle was gone. Their primary source of air, water, food. Rada's suit had enough water and liquid food for three or four days, if she stretched, but lacked air for more than a few hours. There were only two sources left: what her crewmates had taken into the pit, and what she had in the cart. Going back for it would be a big risk—if the enemy was looking to wipe them out, they'd be running bioscans. Rada needed to find shelter, not be scurrying across the open wastes.
But if the enemy was scanning for them, hunting for them, Rada would be dead within hours either way.
She turned and loped toward the cart. Her strides were bounding, painfully slow. As she sailed through the air, she ran a mental checklist of the cart, cataloguing its contents and what she could use to transport those contents. Her final bound was too hard: she flew straight toward the side of the cart, coming in fast. She aligned herself feet-first and relaxed her muscles. She impacted, letting her legs collapse, absorbing the force. Being drunk seemed to help—she stayed loose, fluid—and she rebounded, arcing slowly to the ground.
She climbed in the front cargo hold of the cart and stuffed bottles of O2 into a lightweight silver bag. Over the comms, the crew yelled back and forth. Parson couldn't raise the attackers. Yed argued they should surrender. Genner backed him, reminding the others they had no weapons in the pit besides the pistol Stem had brought there.
"Won't matter," Karry said. "They're here to kill us. Only choice is whether you want to go out with your hands raised in the air or clenched into fists."
Rada added cans of food and water to a second bag, along with a first aid kit. She hesitated, then threw in some lightweight ice gear, thinking she might be in for a hike at some point. Besides, it wasn't like it weighed anything. Might as well take everything she could handle. She finished looting the cart and ran downhill.
Without the Turtle to act as a relay hub, her comm grew patchy. The last thing she heard was Parson: "You're my crew. I'll fight for you to the last."
She dropped down the ice, making for the base of
"There are none. Defeat was not planned for. We decide on our own."
I bowed to the captain. "I believe the Way has spoken. It has denounced our attack. There is only one thing we can do: pick up our brothers and go home."
"We cannot give up now!" Tton said.
Ffel let his limbs hang from his side. "What else is there to achieve? Our army has failed. This ship, this crew, how would we hope to take the planet by ourselves?"
"We do not have to take it." Tton raised his sensepods from his back, clacking his claws tight. "We can destroy it. Unleash the nukes. Once the clouds have snuffed the last of their sparks, then it will be ours. Who is with me?"
For a moment, the bridge was as still as the surface of a windless pond. One by one, the crew stood and joined Tton's side.
6
As she watched the explosion roil through the darkness, Rada's mouth fell open. She began to speak into her comm, but something stopped her. Later, she would realize it had been survival instinct.
"Captain," Genner choked. "What do we do?"
"Let's see if we can talk to them." Parson's voice elevated. "Wish I were outside right now. If I were, I'd hole up. Head down. And stay down until I knew what was going on."
It sounded like nonsense. Half drunk, Rada took a moment to understand: he was talking to her. She turned and ran down the icy ramp toward the shelf. After taking three steps, she skidded to a stop.
For the last few days, she'd been down in the abyss. Being in that headspace was agonizing, but if there was a silver lining, it was that it had left her as clear-sighted as she'd ever been. The attackers had arrived and destroyed the Box Turtle without so much as saying hello. Rada knew exactly what was going on.
They knew about the Swimmer vessel. They'd come to take it for themselves. And to kill those who'd discovered it.
The Turtle was gone. Their primary source of air, water, food. Rada's suit had enough water and liquid food for three or four days, if she stretched, but lacked air for more than a few hours. There were only two sources left: what her crewmates had taken into the pit, and what she had in the cart. Going back for it would be a big risk—if the enemy was looking to wipe them out, they'd be running bioscans. Rada needed to find shelter, not be scurrying across the open wastes.
But if the enemy was scanning for them, hunting for them, Rada would be dead within hours either way.
She turned and loped toward the cart. Her strides were bounding, painfully slow. As she sailed through the air, she ran a mental checklist of the cart, cataloguing its contents and what she could use to transport those contents. Her final bound was too hard: she flew straight toward the side of the cart, coming in fast. She aligned herself feet-first and relaxed her muscles. She impacted, letting her legs collapse, absorbing the force. Being drunk seemed to help—she stayed loose, fluid—and she rebounded, arcing slowly to the ground.
She climbed in the front cargo hold of the cart and stuffed bottles of O2 into a lightweight silver bag. Over the comms, the crew yelled back and forth. Parson couldn't raise the attackers. Yed argued they should surrender. Genner backed him, reminding the others they had no weapons in the pit besides the pistol Stem had brought there.
"Won't matter," Karry said. "They're here to kill us. Only choice is whether you want to go out with your hands raised in the air or clenched into fists."
Rada added cans of food and water to a second bag, along with a first aid kit. She hesitated, then threw in some lightweight ice gear, thinking she might be in for a hike at some point. Besides, it wasn't like it weighed anything. Might as well take everything she could handle. She finished looting the cart and ran downhill.
Without the Turtle to act as a relay hub, her comm grew patchy. The last thing she heard was Parson: "You're my crew. I'll fight for you to the last."
She dropped down the ice, making for the base of
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