IceFlight Page 8

Darsey closed her aching eyes and prayed for patience. If the pirate didn’t lose some of his smug condescension she was going to have to hit him. She spent several seconds lost in a day dream of pummelling Nightwing and that was enough to help her slip back into her vapid disguise. “How far can this field thing extend?” she cooed, all awe and confusion. Could she possibly hate herself any more?

  “What distance do you want?” the kres asked, biting off each crisp word as if he was eating an apple. Darsey’s fingers twitched and longed to curl into fists. “It’s possible,” he continued slowly, “to get total ship cover, but that would draw extra power. Such a drain would upset Greon and our Leader is unpleasant when upset. My console control already covers these rooms and the corridors around. I’m Senior, so I’m privileged.”

  Darsey nodded slowly and ran a finger absently through the tingle of the console field. “You’re second-in-command, right?”

  Nightwing considered her question. “Yes, I’m second.”

  “Why don’t you rate more living space?”

  “I do. I can buy more anywhen I want. There are two reasons I don’t. First, it’s a waste of credit and second, all the better chambers are nest-side and close to-”

  “Greon?”

  They exchanged a grimace and then both laughed.

  “Certain-sure. These rooms keep me far from the Leader and close to the crew. Getting to know my crew is important. I think some of them like me well enough not to kill me.”

  Darsey studied him uncertainly and Nightwing laughed cynically at her disbelief. “Ye, they certain-sure would murder me if they could. Your innocence reveals much about your people and their chances of survival off world. I hope they never try to take passage to other systems, because they’ll be tweets before razorbacks. Do you not understand the most basic law of hierarchies? If someone with high rank gets killed, there are many promotions. That flow down makes such murders incredibly popular.”

  Darsey nodded seriously and tried to control the heat climbing the back of her neck. Nightwing’s arrogant assumption of superiority made her burn. Her fury was increasingly hard to contain and she had to struggle to widen her eyes in apparent appreciation. He smiled condescendingly and tapped into further layers of console control. Darsey watched closely and noted the names of available functions. She kept her expression vacant as he led her deeper into the ship’s systems, the strange bracelet on his wrist gleaming among swirling holograms.

  “Do you see how to work through to what you wish?” Nightwing finally sighed, before turning to look at Darsey with a pitying smile.

  “I’m not sure,” she choked. “Would you show me some more?”

  “Hmmm.” Nightwing chewed his lip without turning back to the console. Oops. Darsey tried a vacant smile, but it was too late.

  “That’s enough instruction for now,” he said brusquely. “Is there any else you wish? My shift starts in nine minutes.”

  She gestured without hesitation to the gold bracelet circling his wrist and tried for another innocent smile. “It’s pretty.”

  Nightwing’s eyes narrowed while he studied her intently. “Pretty useful, which you’ve clearly deduced.”

  Darsey blinked and stared at the kres blankly. Her face felt as slack as soggy pasta, but he gave a sardonic grin and stabbed a finger sideways in his gesture for ‘no’. Their eyes locked until Nightwing winked.

  Darsey laughed ruefully and raised her hands in sudden surrender. She’d pushed too hard and it seemed the arrogant pirate wasn’t completely foolish. It was time to change tactics. “Okay, you got me. The bangle looks useful. What is it?”

  “It’s called a com and it holds a communicator, met-enhancement field, blaster, basic meds, compression storage unit, pulse initiator and console interface.”

  “Can I have one?”

  “Maybe, but later. It needs must be earned.”

  Darsey’s empty stomach knotted further. “How?” she asked hesitantly, but Nightwing glared at her concern.

  “Not by doing any deed you don’t wish to. It’s simple. Just resist your impulse to hit me over the head while I’m in-sleep.”

  “What about when you’re awake?”

  “That’s no joke, Darsey. Try to hold in mind that on this ship I’m the best asset you’ve got.”

  “Mmmm, I can see you’ve got plenty to offer,” she answered. “And you know what’s going on around here, so perhaps you can help me. There’s something I don’t understand. Okay, okay, there are several somethings I don’t understand, but this is the weirdest. Why do we speak the same language? I thought you were using some sort of translator, but now I’m not sure. It looks and sounds like we’re talking English.”

  “You’re near right. In truth, we’re speaking Bridge.”

  “Bridge?” Darsey repeated sceptically, but Nightwing smiled in approval.

  “That’s good. You should question everything you hear. However, in this case, it’s true. How do you know to believe it? Apart from the fact that we’re communicating? Well, this truth is too bizarre to be a lie. No one would attempt to fake anything so mind-lost. We can understand each other because every sentient race speaks Bridge. Some grammar is different, but we all share a language that dates from before our first out-world contact.”

  “That’s ridiculous. How could different species from separate planets have a common language? It’s not the only language spoken on my planet and it’s certainly not the first language of most humans. Why would it be this Bridge?”

  Nightwing shrugged and stretched so that his chair lengthened around him. “That’s the question and it’s been asked multi times, but never answered. At least not in full. The ‘how’ is easy. Clearly the language development of every sentient species has been stirred with.”

  “What? That’s impossible. The demands of nurturing a language so that it reaches the form you want and then spreading it through a multi-lingual world, they’d be huge. A logistical nightmare. Even trying to hold a dialect against regional variations would take constant oversight. Spreading it around a planet would need social manipulation on a global scale, right down to encouraging one country’s industrial and military development ahead of others without being too obvious about it...”

  Darsey stopped in sudden horror and her words dropped away, left behind by her thoughts. Pieces of history fell into place beside the evidence of her own ears. A huge job, yes, but not impossible.

  “Tricky,” Nightwing agreed, “but not impossible. They did a nova job, whoever they were. They did it on at least seven planets and they did it for a long time.”

  Darsey simply gaped. Her masks finally slipped, but she was only distantly aware of them falling away. Stupidity and false admiration were erased by genuine awe. She shook her head and tried to absorb Nightwing’s claim. “Are you saying some unknown aliens have been in my solar system? That they lived on Earth, interfering with our language?”

  “Ye. And if that fails to ruffle your feathers, this certain-sure will. They also altered your DNA.”

  “What?”

  “Give it some thought. You’ve met two new species that look human-as. Convergent evolution couldn't begin to explain it. My people aren’t even mammals.”

  Darsey gaped numbly, searching the face of the stranger in front of her who suddenly seemed more alien than ever.

  “We kres are placental avians,” he explained. “There were never mammals on my home planet, Kresynt. Birds alone evolved, but look at us.”

  Nightwing spread his hand above one of Darsey’s to hide her fingers beneath his. “Mine may be bigger, but otherwise they’re perfect matched. We’re similar in every way and that’s impossible. It's certainly no accident. It must be deliberate. There are seven sentient species, if we add your people-”

  “If?”

  “I'm still unsure. You play stupid rather well. Anyall, every species shares almost identical gene codes and same-as technology. Your spaceflight may still be primitive, but at least you’ve got
such. The oldest space faring race we know is the gentik and they first launched only 76,000 years past. That’s yesterday on a galactic scale.”

  “It’s statistically impossible,” Darsey managed to agree, despite a dry throat. She shook her head and grimaced. “Seven sentient species, all evolving physically and technologically over such a short period… the odds against it are enormous. Unless life is such a common occurrence that new species are developing almost constantly-”

  “No. We’re certain-sure that’s not so. If it was, we’d see evidence of such, but the only species we find are suspiciously close to ourselves in genes and culture. Life isn't uncommon, but its development to high intelligence is. Someone has interfered with evolution in our sector, Darsey.”

  “But... why?”

  Nightwing’s look was challenging and he gave a wicked grin. “Why, indeed. The answer to that could earn you a billion credits. That’s what the gentik offer to any who can explain such manipulation. It’s a question every sentient would like answered, but no one has come up with a convincing truth. What’s your thought?”

  Nightwing asked the question seriously and Darsey realized that for the first time, he wasn’t being condescending. He was genuinely interested in her opinion. The idea was so huge it was daunting, but she could see one thing quite clearly.

  “They want us all to interact as easily as possible. With each other, or perhaps just with them. Presumably, they spoke Bridge before they guided other languages to the same form, but that’s not really important, because the language is just secondary. Genetic manipulation that dates back to the dawn of our species is mind blowing. It’s taken millennia of commitment and there must be some reason for it. Do we know whether these manipulators are benevolent or malevolent? They can’t be indifferent to us or they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. We must be of use to them...”

  Nightwing smiled at her with apparent admiration. “We call them the Shapers and that was a most succinct summation from someone who can’t yet order crisp from a console.”

  Darsey ignored the heat spreading up her cheeks, because being caught out by the kres seemed suddenly unimportant. The thought of alien interference in human evolution was profoundly disturbing and she shuddered.

  “I know,” Nightwing agreed with feeling. “It’s almost too huge to comprehend and scary-as. What do they chase? I agree with you that they must want somthing. Many kres claim our similarity is due to the benevolence of the Gods, but I thin-”

  He was interrupted by a flashing globe that appeared above the console. His mouth snapped shut and the strands framing his throat rippled like seaweed, rising to point directly at the wailing icon.

  Darsey leaned forward until the metal arms of her chair ground into her elbows. Was he hearing a message in his mind? Was that telepathy, or something she could do with a console too?

  Nightwing blinked and slowly rose. His expression was calm, but distant. The easy camaraderie she had felt when they discussed sentient evolution vanished. His eyes focused on her again, but their warmth was gone. “It’s the t’ssaa.”

  “Who are the t’ssaa?”

  He turned away to tap the console and its multiple images disappeared, leaving only the basic index. “Practice if you can, but don’t break anything. I expect to be busy. The t’ssaa are the most strange of all sentients and complete unpredictables.” He spun to step through the door, without any reassurance, or even a farewell.

  Darsey was suddenly alone.

  She poked her tongue out after her owner and the juvenile gesture made her laugh. She turned back to the console with her good humour restored. “Okay, computer-”

  “My name is Pertwing,” the console interrupted in a throaty contralto.

  “Computer,” Darsey repeated firmly, ignoring the sexy persona that Nightwing had given his machine. “I want you to close this level and open data relay.” Her fingers flicked authoritatively through the floating display and it obeyed the gestures she had copied from Nightwing.

  A hologram of the galaxy faded, to be replaced by visuals of the ship and its present position. Another ship was rapidly approaching. The t’ssaa, she guessed. It was the same fluted diamond shape as the Bandit, but twice the size, and its hull was a multi-faceted green instead of black. It reflected light with the fluidity of close-set scales and the ship seemed to scintillate within chain mail armor. It rippled across the stars and turned to match the Bandit’s course. Darsey realized that the two ships must be communicating and flicked through the ship’s systems to find external links. Her finger beckoned in the activation signal, but nothing happened.

  “Computer-”

  “Pertwing.”

  “Whichever. I want to hear what they’re saying. Relay the inter-ship communication.”

  “It is inappropriate for a sub-rank alien to be accessing these systems.”

  “Nightwing left me console access, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he assumed you had only primitive knowledge of its process. If he had better scanners, he would know that you are truly intelligent and should be treated with care.”

  Darsey tapped a finger against pursed lips and squinted at the bright projection as she considered the problem of a stubborn, sweet-talking computer program. She rubbed her eyes distractedly and, as she did, the display dimmed to a more comfortable level. She blinked in surprise and Pertwing virtually purred in response.

  “My gift, clever alien. Your vision has color saturation plus. It must cause you some discomfort in this setting. Is your natural environment more muted?”

  “Thank you,” Darsey agreed neutrally. “Now please contact Nightwing and we’ll let him clarify my console access.”

  There was no reply and Darsey realized that she had at least unsettled Pertwing by refusing to be diverted by it. She opened her mouth to ask again, but, before she could, Nightwing’s clipped voice interrupted her.

  “I’ve just made nest fall and it’s busy. What?”

  Darsey answered quickly, before the console could state its case. “Sorry, Wing. I just want to learn how to order breakfast, but Pertwing is questioning my console access. Am I allowed to use this thing or not?”

  “As I said, so it is. Pert, give her access, love. Just don’t let her blow up the ship and Darsey, never in-talk while I’m at work.”

  He abruptly terminated the link and Darsey smiled triumphantly at the featureless console. “You heard him, computer. Give.”

  There was a momentary pause and Darsey cleared her throat, but, before she could repeat the order, Greon appeared in mid-air. He flashed into life mere centimetres in front of her face and she jumped in shock. She rolled her eyes at the console and settled again to watch the conversation.

  “Ah, here’s my tardy senior,” Greon growled and looked to one side as Nightwing moved into view. “This is Leader Payiss and he believes we have a kres in-ship, Nightwing.”

  “And do we, sah?” the kres asked sardonically.

  They both looked out of the projection toward Darsey and she jumped again as a voice responded from behind her.

  “Obviousssly.”

  The hair on the back of her neck crawled at the hissing reply and she turned slowly to study the image behind her. The speaker was as bizarre as his voice suggested and his kinship with reptiles immediately obvious. His green skin was smooth, but carried the faint pattern of vestigial scales. It stretched across a hairless head and his face was not flat like the other sentients she had met, but jutted forward in a triangular snout. Pleated folds of skin ran from the top of his head to the back of his neck. His mouth was simply a lipless gash and his eyes were violet, with cat-like slits. Those dark pupils were curiously unfixed and, as Darsey watched, they slid sideways to lie horizontally, instead of upright. Two flared nostrils sat above the alien’s mouth and a forked tongue flickered briefly to taste the air before vanishing again.

  “We have interesst in your kres. We wish to buy it.”

  Darsey froze and th
en her head swivelled to study Nightwing. He stood perfectly still and his face was calm, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. He said nothing as he waited for Greon’s answer. The Leader fingered his upper lip while considering the offer and her heart clenched. The image seemed to darken and when Darsey shook her head to clear it, everything spun instead. What would happen to her if Wing was sold? Could a slave own another slave? Or was she about to become the property of a giant iguana?

  Greon finally stirred, little more than a silhouette in Darsey’s blackened sight, but she recognised his hand when it jerked from side-to-side. “Apologies, but such a sale is impossible. I’m always open to trade, but Nightwing is my senior and has value plus.”

  “We will pay most well. You are mermaridian and credit is better than battle, yesss?”

  Greon hesitated and his mouth creased, in the middle of each lip while he thought again about both the offer and the threat. Darsey closed her eyes as sight finally deserted her. She didn’t know the rules of being a slave, but she certainly wasn’t ready for a new owner.

  The Leader’s voice was thick with fury when he finally answered, but still each of his blurred words was polite. “All sensible people prefer trade to war, Leader, but only if the trade satisfies. What do you wish of my Senior?”

  Darsey looked back to the t’ssaa and its tongue flickered again, as if it wanted to taste the opposition. “We are sscientists. We want to sstudy kres. I observe it is male. We will pay well for it.”

  “So you said, but he is of too much use to part with-” Greon was interrupted by a furious hiss and his top lip drew back from his teeth in response. “I mean this, Spawn of the Father, but I’m still looking to make a trade.”

  Darsey turned back to the t’ssaa and her heart almost stopped as the frills of skin sitting against its neck flew forward and up. A crest of scarlet and gold appeared around its head. The vivid crown stood stiff and straight to quiver with rage. It rattled as it shook and that ominous noise combined with its color and size made Darsey flinch. She slid from her chair to stumble back against the cool curve of the console.

  “Do you still wish to watch?” Pertwing asked softly, but its pointed question was lost in the noise of the t’ssaa. The percussive thunder from its crest was joined by a steam train hiss.

  “Talk fasssssst,” it ordered angrily, and Darsey realized that its body was at battle readiness.

  Greon’s voice was still calm, but his cheeks had paled. “You wish to learn more of kres and I’m willing to help. You can send a team to my ship and they can complete both full scan and tissue extraction from my Senior. For a price.”

  The t’ssaa calmed immediately and its crest settled back to its neck with a final rattle of spines. “That may be ssatisfactory. We wish full scan, probe, ssstimuli responsse, sexual responsse and sample collection, including internal tissue.”

  “Sah,” Nightwing protested between clenched teeth, but Greon raised a silencing hand.

  “That will be unpleasant for my officer, a true invasion. He may have to rest for a shift and I need compensation for such.”

  “Yess. We will give ten thousand creditss.”

  The two leaders stared at each other and Darsey flopped back into her chair. It clanked and quivered beneath her and she settled into it with a metallic groan. The sound almost covered the pirate’s softly slurred answer. “Done. Send your team.”

  The t’ssaa instantly cut the link and vanished, but Greon and Nightwing still hung in front of Darsey. The Leader’s mouth stretched happily and he smacked his Senior on the shoulder, so that Wing had to grab the back of Greon’s chair to stop himself flying away.

  “An excellent trade, despite the snakes’ refusal to barter and one I trust we’re all keen to fulfill. I’m not ready to fight those lizards, Senior. They’re all Luckless, motherless, mad, Arena trash, even worse than drakking Harvesters and more deadly too. But no need to worry. I’ll stay close and watch all they do.”

  Nightwing’s mouth twisted in something close to a snarl. “I want fifty percent, you bustwing. Don’t say anything and don’t yell anything, sah. Fifty percent, or I’ll make certain-sure we have to fight for a path out of here.” He glowered at Greon and, for once, the Leader was silent.

  The mermaridian drummed his fingers on the overstuffed arm of his chair, until it sounded like a distant thunderstorm. The thudding stopped abruptly when he made a fist, but he offered Nightwing a toothy grin.

  “Agreed. We both know you need the credit and truly you’ll deserve it.”

  “I will by the time the t’ssaa are done,” Darsey’s owner said grimly.

  He drifted back from the Leader’s chair and twisted fluidly despite being weightless. A blast from his com sent him hurtling toward the link and Greon levered his bulk after his Senior with unaccustomed urgency. They both disappeared into its distant throat and Darsey was left staring at a rag-tag crew.

  A murmur rose, with quiet comments flowing between consoles and in the closest occupied seat a familiar figure stretched out long legs. Darsey clutched her chair arms, winced and leaned closer to stare at Jileea. It seemed a sardonic smile was the pirate’s usual expression, whether she was at work, or trying to kill people.

  “I’m pleased they’re not curious about mermaridian,” Jileea said and her subordinates laughed. “Stay alert, crew. I want data locks on each t’ssaa aboard and one on their ship too. Plot an escape to the closer passage point and keep shields at total power.”

  The nest hummed with renewed activity and Jileea slowly rose. She looked around, briefly seeming to stare through Darsey, but then a tap of the alien’s foot sent her drifting to the Leader’s chair. She settled against its rich upholstery and a few of the crew looked up from their projections with obvious surprise. She regarded them coldly and no one challenged her. Instead, they turned back to their work and Jileea relaxed with a sigh.

  Darsey flicked a finger and the hologram of the bridge vanished. She was alone again. She sighed and wriggled in her seat, but soon gave up trying to get comfortable. It was irrelevant. Nightwing was nicely distracted and he’d left her with full console control.

  “Time to play.”

  9

  Out For A Walk