Chapter 12

  Ghost

  Zev stood in the computer core. Zara was in her element, happily tapping away. Roger looked about to collapse. It was hard to tell how much blood he had lost, but it was a lot.

  "Zev, I can feel you staring," Roger said. He had found a corner to sit in.

  "You need to get back to the ship. I know you are tough, but that is a lot," Zev said, waving his hand over Roger.

  "I will be fine. The bleeding has stopped, my muscles will be repaired soon." Roger was confident, but his voice was tired.

  "Zara and I can handle this. You need to get to Sarsha." Zev's tone was close to an order—something like his old squad sergeant.

  Roger stared at him, face not giving anything away. "If anyone else shows up, what are you going to do? Zara can barely walk right now, and you must be low on ammo."

  "Roger," Zara's soft voice broke in, "I have the computer and its sensors. Nobody is out there. Whoever rigged this ship did it recently. That dropship was connected to this ship."

  "You mean to say those idiots have been flying a ship with a bomb in the engine bay doors?" Roger asked. His glare said more than words.

  "Yes. From what I can tell, that bomb has been there a while. Whoever they were, their incompetence should have kept them grounded. Once I passed the basic encryption, I had free access." Zara exhaled. "This is the most sloppy file system I have seen. These guys were set up by somebody."

  "Pull the crew manifest and any logs you can. Zev, find if there is anything worth taking. Be quick. We need to get back."

  "Fine, you stay here," Zev said. "Zara, if he tries to leave, shoot him." With that, he walked out.

  Zara had restored lighting in the halls. That at least made navigation better. Now he could see the disrepair of the ship. Hallways and doors scratched, dented, and stained. He would be doing the universe a favor if he blew this ship up.

  Luckily, the ship had the standard layout. Important stuff in the middle, cargo to the rear and outside.

  The first cargo bay was almost empty. Some dried foodstuffs and emergency water. The next had parts; parts for all kinds of ships. Parts that made no sense.

  Looking around, he found a few pieces they might need: a box of door servos, and some standard replacement parts. Digging deeper in the mess, he really hoped nothing decided to bite him.

  What they really needed was either more coolant or heat tile. Tile would be best, but coolant could keep them alive in a pinch.

  If there had been time, he would have liked to rip out the engines. They still worked, so that made them the most valuable thing on the ship. He doubted the engines would be compatible with the Wrath, but he could part them out.

  "Zara," he called on the comm, "Do you have a manifest for any of this crap?" He got a burst of static for a response. Damn ship, with shitty wiring. Searching for a few more minutes brought him nothing but sticky hands.

  He tried the comm again when he was outside the hold. This time he thought he heard Zara, but the static was strong. Well, this sucked. He was tempted to rip wiring out of the walls. That wouldn’t help, but it might make him feel better.

  Walking back to the computer core, he spotted a shadow crossing the corridor. His rifle snapped out. He moved to the left side of the hallway, opposite from where he saw the shadow last.

  Taking small, controlled steps, he eased his way forward. He paused right before the turn. Doing his best, he checked the corners, bringing his rifle off his chest to keep the barrel from sticking out.

  Nothing to see really. He stepped around the corner, his weapon leading his eyes. The lights were on, but still not good. The hallway was empty. He stepped back around the corner. He slung his rifle and pulled out his pistol.

  With flashlight under his pistol, he went back. The light didn’t reveal anything. He pressed on, keeping the light and pistol moving together.

  It wasn’t long before he was back at the core. The door was shut, and he couldn’t hear anything beyond it. Standing to one side, he opened the door.

  The room was empty. As soon as he stepped in, his boot felt heavier. Zara! This was her doing. She must be mad about something. He went to the computer—it was logged off with a smile drawn on it.

  A loud clang from behind him caused him to spin. His weapon and flashlight lit the area. Nothing there. Growling, he stepped out of the room. He tried his comm again. This time it was just dead.

  Why did this keep happening to him? First, he lost the captain, now his little sister and Roger. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone capturing Roger. He would have heard that. With Zara and Roger, one of them would have gotten off a shot.

  Decision time. Head to the bridge or outside. If he went outside, he could grab the plasma cutter and start slicing the ship. If he went to the bridge, he might learn where Zara and Roger were.

  Cutting up the ship wouldn’t help right now, so he made for the bridge. Down the central hallway, into the ship.

  Not trusting lifts, he took ladders up. It wasn’t easy given his size and how big his rifle was, but he made it work.

  He was two levels up and toward the bow of the ship when he heard people arguing. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but it sounded like a man and woman.

  Stepping softly, he made his way to the doorway. The voices were starting to clear up when they suddenly stopped. Zev paused a moment, his head tilting a little.

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  His best chance for answers was to push ahead. He was not a quiet man, but this time he made an exception.

  He got to the doorway. Positioned himself on one side, took a deep breath, and hit the control panel. The door slid open. The room was dark. His flashlight revealed a small bedroom.

  The bed was a mess, clothing was scattered across the floor. The odor was something he was all too familiar with.

  He had spent a lot of time living with others in close confines. Yes, this was the smell of unwashed clothing, and someone that was allergic to the shower.

  He went to take a step in when he heard a sneeze. Whipping his pistol around, he aimed at the doorway behind him. Choosing bold action, he rushed the door and opened it.

  A hand shot out of the room as soon as the door cleared. It pushed his weapon down while another hand grabbed his arm and pulled.

  Rolling to the other side of the door, Zev hit the doorjamb with his shoulder, stopping his forward motion. Using the wall as a brace, he pulled back. A body came flying with the hand.

  Roger grabbed his waist and ducked around to his back. They stood there, each waiting. "If Sarsha saw us, we would both lose body parts," he finally said.

  Roger let go and stepped back. "Zara figured out this ship has ghost projectors. We were trying to find the control room."

  "A what?"

  "A ghost projector," Zara said slowly. "It is a set of sensors and projectors that cause shadows and sounds. It’s what makes this ship so damn creepy."

  Zev stared at her. Sometimes she was insufferable. "And my boots?"

  "I don’t know, maybe something is wrong with them." Try as she might, she couldn’t fight the smile.

  "Then why were you hiding in here?" Zev asked.

  "I heard something. I figured it was you. Zara spoofed our voices."

  Zev just shrugged at that. It was the right move. They didn’t know who was after them.

  "Where to?" Zev asked.

  "I don’t know. The control room is hidden. We might have to map the power. Let’s get to the bridge, that should give us some answers."

  With that, Zara led the way. It didn’t take long to get to the bridge. The door was unlocked.

  Zev put a hand on Zara’s shoulder. "Roger, do you want to go in first?"

  Roger nodded and stacked on the door. Zara moved back and let Zev past.

  When Zev was behind Roger, he tapped him on the back of the leg. Roger opened the door and sprang through.

  The bridge was empty, its consoles powered down. Roger stood in the middle of the room, sweeping his gaze back and forth. "Looks clear to me."

  Before the words were fully out, Zara was already at a console. It powered on without complaint. She hit the keyboard like it owed her answers.

  Roger slumped into a chair. Zev knelt beside him, silent, already inspecting the wounds.

  The stab to the leg had closed and scabbed. The hole in his arm looked worse—but not dire. No need for antiseptic. Roger’s nanites would handle any infection before it had a chance to think. He was in rough shape, but he would go on.

  "Zara, any luck?" Zev asked. He had finished his exam of Roger. There was nothing he could do for him.

  "We’ll need to bring the reactor online. Something has drained the batteries," Zara said, still typing away. The screen was flashing rapidly.

  "No. I say we lock the computer and get off this ship," Zev replied. "It feels like we’re being led on a chase. Time to stop playing whatever game this is."

  Roger nodded in agreement. His face was pale, his eyes sagging shut. Normally, it would be Roger’s call. Right now, Zev didn’t care.

  "Set up a remote link, then lock it down," Zev said. "Roger, do you think you can make it to the top?"

  "Yes, good idea," Roger answered. Going out the top hatch would be unexpected, and give them some cover from ground fire. Of course, it would leave them exposed to any sky-side surveillance or attack.

  "Alright, I am done," Zara said, hitting the keys one more time. "The system is locked down. If anyone tries to access it, we will know. Pull that drive. I’ve put the logs and manifest on it." Zara pointed at a spot under the pilot's console.

  Zev reached down and pulled it out. It was a small gray rectangle, only a few inches long and wide. Stashing it on his belt, he unslung his rifle. He looked to Roger, who nodded and stood up.

  Roger took the lead. It wasn’t long before they reached the top access hatch he had first used to break into the ship. It was going to be a tight squeeze for Zev, but he would manage.

  “Zev, charge up a shot. I’ll go up first—you’ll pass me your railcannon. If anyone’s waiting, I want to give them a farewell gift. Help Zara up, then you go last,” Roger said, climbing the ladder to the hatch.

  Both Zev and Zara nodded. Roger went up first.

  Zev started to charge up his railcannon. It would take a few seconds and was dangerously unstable, but it would ruin anyone’s day.

  Roger flew up the ladder. When he cleared the hatch, Zev tossed the weapon up after him.

  Zara started to climb, but she was moving slowly. Her implants helped her walk—climbing was another matter. Zev grabbed his little sister under the arms and lifted her as high as he could.

  With some effort, Zara was able to climb the rest of the way. When she reached the top, Roger grabbed her hand and pulled her out.

  Zev followed. He had to hunch over to get into the ladder well. Once there, he T-rexed his arms to climb. His legs did most of the work—he could hardly move his arms. Near the top, he got stuck. He had to wiggle his arms up, his hands sticking straight up.

  He felt a hand grab his and pull. He was halfway out when Roger let go. Zev managed to get his legs free. That had sucked more than he thought it would.

  He scanned the horizon. Nothing caught his eye. Roger would have already checked the immediate surroundings.

  “What do you think?” Zev asked.

  “Whoever is behind this is expecting us to stay on this ship. Every time we make progress, something else happens to keep us here,” Roger said, handing Zev’s railcannon back to him.

  “It will take some time to get the buggy working again,” Zara chimed in. “If you had let me deal with it, the buggy would be good to go.”

  “If I had let you deal with it, we wouldn't have a buggy,” Zev shot back, his voice hard.

  “Enough,” Roger said. Both siblings stopped mid-argument. “There is nothing worth taking from this ship. Zev, go get the buggy working. Zara, help me find the main receiver.”

  Both of them knew better than to argue with Roger on a mission—and that’s what this had turned into.

  Zev walked over to the edge of the ship. It was farther down than he wanted to fall. He turned toward the bow and walked until he came to the junction where the atmo-drive planes extended.

  He dropped down onto the stub of the wing. When he landed, the wing bent and sent him tumbling. He reached out for the edge as he fell past. His hand closed around it—then slipped off.

  At least he was falling feet-first.

  He pulled his rifle up, not wanting it to hit the ground—charged up, it would end explosively. His feet hit with a thud. He bent his knees and rolled with the impact, keeping the rifle close to his chest, giving it as much cushion as he could.

  Rolling to his feet, he looked down. The power indicator was still green. Good—no uncontrolled rapid release of energy.

  With the rifle not about to blow up, he made his way over to the buggy.

  It was sitting where they had left it. He walked around it quickly. It didn’t look like anyone had touched it. He slung his rifle and got to work.

  Zara had done a good job of getting it moving. It didn’t take long before he was ready to power it up.

  Hitting the button, the repulsors hummed to life. It gently floated up about six inches. He checked the power core temperature—running a little hot, but it should get Zara back.

  It wasn’t long after that Roger and Zara showed up. He couldn’t tell which one was worse off.

  He could read on Zara’s face that the pain block had worn off.

  Roger—he wasn’t sure Roger wasn’t already dead and just running on spite.

  The only thing that would kill Roger was Roger.

  “What do you want to do about the cutter?” Zev asked Roger. He desperately didn’t want to carry it back.

  “Leave it for now. If anyone checks, they might think we’re still here—or intend to come back,” Roger answered, like the saint of common sense.

  “The last time someone rode back with me, she almost died. Roger, are you going to die?” Zara asked, getting into the buggy.

  “I don't plan on it,” Roger replied, sitting next to her.