Colony Three

By Amy Faulks

In a galaxy where survival depends on determination and unity, Colony Three takes readers on a gripping journey to the uncharted planet Arcadia. As the remnants of humanity struggle to build a new home, chaos unfolds aboard the massive freighter Atropos. A devastating crash leaves the colonists grappling with the dangers of an alien world and their own secrets.

Follow Leslie, a healer with mysterious abilities; Kayne, a reluctant scientist with a soldier's instincts; and Kirill, a bold pilot navigating the unknown. Together, they must uncover the truth about the ship's sabotage, the hunters among them, and the challenges of forging a new life on a planet teeming with strange beauty—and deadly threats.

With rich characters, heart-pounding action, and a vividly imagined world, Colony Three explores resilience, camaraderie, and the delicate balance between human progress and the mysteries of an alien frontier.

Perfect for fans of science fiction filled with suspense, complex relationships, and the spirit of exploration.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amy Faulks
• Release date: Nov 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224448784

Book preview

COLONY THREE

Amy Faulks

© Copyright 2024 - All rights reserved.

The content contained within this book may not be reproduced, duplicated or transmitted without direct written permission from the author or the publisher. Under no circumstances will any blame or legal responsibility be held against the publisher, or author, for any damages, reparation, or monetary loss due to the information contained within this book, either directly or indirectly. Legal Notice: This book is copyright protected. It is only for personal use. You cannot amend, distribute, sell, use, quote or paraphrase any part, or the content within this book, without the consent of the author or publisher.

Table of Contents

Ch 1. A Thing Begins

Ch. 2. A Thing Obfuscates

Ch. 3. A Thing Floats in Zero G

Ch. 4. A Thing Steps on Dirt

Ch. 5. A Thing Makes a U-Turn

Ch. 6 A Thing is Airborne

Ch. 7 A Thing Sees Ghosts

Ch. 8 A Thing Pulls a Fast One

Ch. 9 A Thing Dances for Gods

Ch. 10 A Thing Isn’t What it Looks Like

Ch. 11 A Thing Gets Fresh

Ch. 12 A Thing Waves in the Dark

Ch 13 A Thing Lacks a Road

Ch. 14 A Thing is Lost and Found

Ch. 15 A Thing Dissembles

Ch.16 A Thing Incubates

Ch. 17 A Thing Goes Rogue

Ch. 18 A Thing Struggles and Falls

Ch. 19 A Thing Spirals

Ch. 20 A Thing Commingles

Ch. 21 A Thing Takes Place

Ch. 22 A Thing Gets Religion

Ch. 23 A Thing Becomes Clearer

Ch. 24 A Thing Finally Fits

Ch. 25 A Thing Makes Plans

Ch. 26 A Thing Listens to Hold Music

CH. 27 A Thing Is What It Is

Ch. 28 A Thing Traverses

Ch 29 A Thing Takes Charge

Ch. 30 A Thing is Overrun

Ch. 31 A Thing is Menaced

Ch. 32 A Thing is Seized

Ch. 33 A Thing is Caged

Epilogue

Ch 1. A Thing Begins

Hecuva 1

It’s day three, Hecuva. Is that weapons array deactivated yet?

Only just, these systems are complicated. You know I’m not a hacker. Plus, there’s a lot left to do. My stolen flyer and I are docked at Shadow Station, which is in high orbit above the planet Arcadia. People downstairs, planetside, are talking me through my work. It’s slow. Communications are spotty because the com satellite was destroyed when Shadow Station blew the orbital platform and the gravitic catapult out of the sky, so I only talk to my people downstairs every so often: when I’m directly overhead. I’d hoped to find clues about the orbital platform attack while I was here, but I haven’t been able to figure out who might have triggered it, and only the gods know why at this point, though I have my suspicions.

It’s a miracle I managed to dock at all, with the unmanned station on the offensive, but my piloting skills are solid, at least, and I have Colony One’s key access card to the station. I can’t believe we got the key that it worked without a hitch: Two-timer was able to get around the biometrics easily. As hard as it is for me to get along with her, she’s very good at what she does. The people downstairs, Two-timer included, were convinced that more than one key was needed to get onto the station but evidently not, though I’ve come across things I haven’t been able to do with a single key. It’s been frustrating.

Things are a mess at Colony Two in my opinion, though we of Iron Sun can still walk openly there, for now at least. Then there’s the Colony Three ship, Atropos. She’s late, months late. I feel her out there like the ticking of yet another bomb. The people downstairs tell me to relax, it’s not likely that the Atropos will arrive while I’m aboard Shadow Station, but I can’t shed this sense of urgency: I must finish my work here at the station or find a way to deactivate the station altogether before the freighter arrives.

It’s taking me too long. I hear it in the voices of the people downstairs. I can’t call them my friends. They’re more to me than that and less, I suppose. It is what it is. But I’m no expert with computer systems problems like this and I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t have been sent but I was the only one able to come.

Being in orbit has trashed my circadian rhythms. Longing to be back on solid ground, my mind drifts and I keep getting the coding confused. Once I even find myself typing in one of our Iron Sun routines, adding it to the station’s protocols. Godsdammit. I’m so tired. It’s vital to keep things straight: Sol system is too far away and things downstairs are deteriorating. There is hunger and disease. People have no work. The attack on the orbital platform, the catapult, and the subsequent fall of the space elevator devastated the economy. The Atropos drifts into my thoughts again as my fingers fly over the keys of my workstation. Now the supplies and personnel coming in on that ship are more important than ever.

I rub a hand through my cropped brown hair, ignoring my fuzzy reflection in the workstation screen as I scan and scan, the sound of my fingernails tapping the only company I have in the deserted station. Why did it activate? Why is it even here? A weapons platform...who built it? When? Why does Arcadia need such a thing? I ask myself these questions again and again. Iron Sun discovered the station by accident and too late to save the orbital platform or the other vital infrastructure that was lost. I close my eyes and rub them, trying to focus my tired brain. When I take my hands away, a round indicator blinks yellow at eye level off to the left, then another lights solid red, centered above the workstation. An instant later, a bank of indicators comes to life to my right. Panicking, my fingers fly over the interface. My work isn’t done, and the station has detected a ship dropping out of hyperspace above Arcadia. Is it the Atropos? It must be. Gods, I’m too late.

Leslie 1

My hands are freezing, my feet too. I feel heavy pads of shock gel laying across my torso and legs. It doesn't help. My eyes roll under my lids then drag themselves open. A frosty layer of glass curves barely an inch over my face: a window to nothing. I can’t see through it, anyway.  I’ve come to in my stasis pod. I hurt. It’s not supposed to feel like this, is it? My special senses reach for others, a reflex, but I can’t focus at first. I’m too groggy. I feel...minds. Yes. Nearby. Some are just empty. Are they still sleeping? Are they dead? I can’t tell in my state. I pass them by. They’re gone, they’ve gone. My heart is a rabbit in my chest. Where am I? I listen, I reach out and out with my special, special senses. Everything hurts.

Sound isn’t sound in my pod’s shock gel or in space. It feels wrong. What I hear in the gel isn’t sound so much as it is friction. It’s conductive. Metal strikes metal, grinds metal. I feel vertigo. Whirling. That seems wrong too. Gravity seems to be fluctuating. Our ship. The Atropos, what’s happening? I feel sick. Is that me, my sick, or someone nearby? I can’t tell the difference. Stop that sick right now, girl. No vomiting in your gel. Not in the stasis pod. Light flashes then burns steady above the crystal over my face. I see only colors: black blinks to red then glows a steady, fluorescent blue. Are those collisions I feel? Impacts? I can’t count them at first, then there is calm. Minds feel like they fall away from me in a stream. We are falling, all of us. How? Why? Stasis pod. I’m in a stasis pod that’s in a freighter module. Yes, that’s where I am. A personnel module docked to the freighter Atropos. How many modules are there? I can’t remember. A lot.

A release lever: there’s one here in the pod with me. Why is this thing still so cold? It woke me, didn’t it? Fuck if it shouldn’t be warmer. Training drill. I remember the trainer’s voice back on the Saturn V lunar departure station, back on Rhea. For an instant, I remember thinking, "can’t imagine needing that," when I had to try the emergency release lever in class. Thank every god the trainer made us do it. The fingers of my right hand close over the lever and I push it hard: away from me and up. Nothing happens at first and I feel scared, then the pod’s hatch makes a noise like a kiss, and it opens.

Nobody’s standing there to help me out of the pod, but I see a few people milling around, I can hear better, too, with the hatch open. My dark hair is in my face, it’s escaped from my ponytail. It’s so much warmer out here. I get up, scramble out of the stasis pod and collapse on the deck. I want my boots. I hear another pod open nearby, and a roaring voice, ...Godsdammit! Get back in your pods! There’s what must be another impact, and everything not bolted down flies up into the air, slams down again against the deck. I feel their pain: the other colonists. I hear cries and running feet. I hear with my ears and my mind as people around me strike the deck and sharper things. I see their forms roll and try to rise, even as do I.

There’s a man lying on his right side in the main passageway, I think he’s a colonist like me because of his uniform. I haven’t seen anyone dressed in the orange jumpsuits of Atropos’ crew. The man is only a few meters away, just outside my stasis room at the top of the room’s exit stairway. I see blood soaking his trousers, a lot of it. I’m on my way to him when he stirs, looks down at his wound, curses and swoons. The offender, a twisted shard of metal, protrudes from his hip. It’s likely he fell onto it when the gravity fluttered. He’s heavy. It would take something heavy like his body to force the shard through his flesh in such a way. I can see the shard from where I approach him. The hard part for me will be removing the metal. I can’t help but think he’s lucky to have me here. 

I’m already exploring the injury with my senses as I reach him: it’s a messy tear in the meat medial to his hip bone, close to the iliac artery. It feels like the artery is substantially nicked, but repairing it isn’t beyond me. He’s not young. Caucasian, lightly bearded. His features, if not twisted with pain, would be quite handsome.

I place a hand around the shard and another on his hip, bracing.  Lie still, okay? Deep breath, I say, and without pause I yank the metal from his body. He shrieks and curls toward me. I lay the shard aside and press him back onto the deck. It’s automatic for my mind to knit the edges of the big bleeder I sense in the wound, to stop the flow of blood if nothing else. It’s automatic to feel the fear that comes when I risk doing this work openly. It’s not automatic to set the fear aside as I do now, or to continue with the healing as I kneel before him. I won’t completely close the wound, but it will pose no threat to him once I finish.

Lie still a moment, I say. My name is Leslie. I’ll help you for a few minutes, okay? Then I should see to others.

Thank you, he says, gasping. It’s the man with the booming voice. I grasp and turn his left wrist, glance at the information printed on the ID bracelet there. I read his name, Volnus Tacitus.

Mr. Tacitus, I say, You have a serious wound, but you won’t die. Are you hurt anywhere else? The question is automatic too, I already know the answer, but I’m dealing with Normals here. I always serve them a reason not to suspect me, even if, like now, I’ve left all the evidence in the world of my illicit skills. My stasis pod is open, I say to him. Just there, see it? I’m taking you over there, okay?

I was sent to get these people strapped back in, he says. Too dangerous. We’re landing. Might crash...must do it, Leslie.

You can strap in right there, I say, listening but not listening. Who sent you, Mr. Tacitus? I’m keeping him talking, just like I’ve been trained to do. I’ll tend to that as soon as I’ve seen to you, okay? I’ll do it for you. I’ve no mundane tools to bind his wound. Will he realize? Hells, I’ve no boots on; they’re still in my locker. I manhandle him down one of the steps, he’s larger than me and it’s a struggle. He’s weak from losing blood but finally he cottons on, tries to help, grabs the stair rail over his head and pulls himself up. He crams a fist into his injured hip, leans hard on me, but it’s easier to move him this way.

The stasis room is an average one, and it finally feels familiar, even in the chaos. Thirty-two stasis pods arranged like bunks above and below: four rows of eight. I’m lucky my pod is on one of the lower rows and near us. Everything is bare metal here, exposed tubings and wiring harnesses bound neatly into place with clamps, strappings and such. Things have come loose, what with all the shaking, but from training I know it could be worse. Tacitus and I make the edge of my open stasis pod without further incident.

Who sent you, Mr. Tacitus? I ask again. I still haven’t seen any Atropos crew uniforms, haven’t heard any overhead announcements. I sigh. Keep us both distracted if I can. Move as quickly as possible. There are other injured colonists. Other stasis rooms. Others do need me; I feel them clearly now. I’ve gotten Tacitus turned. He and I are not working together very well, but he’s seated on the edge of the pod and I’m about to lay him down in the thing when the ship does it for me with another impact. He grunts. I lose sight of the man as I fall again to the deck, striking my shoulder painfully against the locker where my boots are. Thinking of the shard, I open the locker and snatch them out, zipping them on quickly. I cram a pair of socks into a pocket, spot my laser pistol and choose to leave it in the locker.

Kayne sent me, Kayne Rusk, Tacitus has what my Momma would call an outside voice. I hear him clearly in the confusion, even though I can’t see him while the boots are going on. Kayne found a pilot. They’re going to, to do something. Try to do something. He pauses, I’m a doctor, dammit! I can help. Let me up!

Not doing it, Doc, I say. Great, a doctor. You are going to have to shout at people from here. I’ll leave the hatch open for you. You’ve taken a bad hit. Sit tight and I’ll come back in a few minutes to check on you, okay? I secure his last strap, but he goes for it, deciding to set himself free. I glare at him, shake my head. You did your bit. You did good, rest now. It’s okay. Use that big voice, but give me a moment to step away from you before you let fly with it, okay? I grab his left shoulder and squeeze. He looks like he feels guilty about being down. I understand. He wants to help.

Did we make it, Dr. Tacitus? Are we there? Do you know?

Ask Kayne, if you see him, he says, head dropping back to the shock gel with a grimace.

I’ll come back, I say. I’m off. I take a medical kit bag from the emergency supplies and check once more over my shoulder before leaving this room for the next. I’m going over training math in my head. Each personnel stasis module has three floors, with six stasis rooms on the top and bottom floors situated three on either side of the central passageway. Only three stasis rooms are housed on the second floor, with balancing space given over to mechanicals for life support and landing. It’s cramped and bare. The dock is there on the second floor, too, the airlock that leads to the Atropos proper.

The module’s entire structure will be recycled into something else once we land, if we land. I can’t stop the facts crowding in now they’ve started: each personnel module carries four hundred eighty colonists, and the Atropos carries eighteen personnel modules: nearly nine thousand colonists. That’s just the regular people. There are private personnel modules too, plus modules containing all sorts of manufacturing and agricultural equipment, food, embryos, seeds, and supplies to restock the two colonies already started on the planet Arcadia. She’s an enormous ship, the Atropos. Supposedly she’s carrying everything Colony Three needs to get started, in addition to supplies for Colonies One and Two.

Still, I can help only some of the folk in my module. I find many that need me. For some I’m too late. Over what feels like an age I perform these same functions again and again: strap someone in, heal a wound, bark at someone else. People are scared but they’re starting to listen. No matter where I go, I can hear Dr. Tacitus bellowing from everywhere in the module. The viewports glow white.

Kayne 1

I hate space. I’m awake, but I don’t fully open my eyes until I realize something isn’t right. What’s happening? Evidence. The ship is shaking, and the gravity is fluctuating. I feel it. There’s a shudder. A sudden stop, or more likely an impact. My right-hand flies to the emergency-release lever and in a moment I’m unstrapping. I sit up, move my legs, try to get the circulation going again. I hate space. I’m out of the stasis pod and immediately feel queasy as something else hits the Atropos and the gravity goes again. I float away from the deck ten centimeters, twenty, thirty centimeters before I’m slammed down when the gravity generators kick back on. By every god, there is no measure by which I can quantify my hatred of space.

I’ve fallen hard on my hands and knees, and it hurts. I look around, remember my weapons and other gear and tear into my locker. In moments, I’m properly dressed and have my pistol safely on my hip, my rifle slung on my chest. Other pods are cracking open around me in the stasis room. Stay put! I shout. It’s safer inside your pods! but I don’t wait to see if people follow my advice. I run down the room’s center aisle, between the rows of stasis pods. I take the stairs up to the main passageway two at a time, and just make the top step when the gravity flashes off and on again, this time with a sound of tearing metal. Our module? Another? The impact outside is impossible to ignore: my head collides with the stair tread as I fall again, this time down the stairs and back into my stasis room. I lay on my back, breathing hard.

Whoa! Above me looms a huge face attached to a bald head. You okay? What the hells is going on? The mouth is speaking. I see it moving. A hand swims into view, and I take it, pulling myself up. His assist is strong, practiced, smooth. Peshkor, he says, an introduction.

Rusk, I reply, already heading back up the stairs.

Where are you headed, Rusk? he shouts after me as I make the top of the stairs again.

Control room. Answers. I throw the words over my shoulder at him without stopping. He pounds after me as I careen down the passageway, passing other stasis rooms, other colonists. I hear a big voice, shouting and cursing, just in time to collide with the man who produces it, an older man I remember from training on Rhea. Isn’t he a physician? He’s a smart one. I look back, catch his eye somehow. Come on, I shout at him and continue to run. I don’t stop to see if he follows, but when we reach the control room door, he isn’t far behind Peshkor, heaving deep breaths.

A slim, dark woman is bent there, trying to open the door. It’s locked or jammed, she says. The power is being weird. It’s also fucking with the gravity. The woman’s fingers are flying over the access pad and I’m shocked when the thing just falls out of the wall into her hands. She pays this no mind, pulling wires, twisting ends frantically. Her speed is impressive. I open my mouth to ask her a question when the door just pops open a few centimeters, hesitates, then slides open another half a meter. Grateful, I dive for the opening at the same time the woman and Peshkor do. All of us are moving it seems. Then the gravity drops, and we all float away from the deck, momentum carrying us toward the opening. The door neatly slides shut again.

We hit the closed doorway in time for the gravity to kick back on so all of us fall to the deck in a heap. Godsdammit! the doctor curses. The woman stands without a word, begins her work again and in a moment has the door fully open once more.

Block it open this time if you can! I say as I enter. I don’t wait. One of them will do it.

There’s nobody in here! The doctor says.

Of course not, Peshkor says, pushing past me. The crew’s on the Atropos, not here in the module. Not clear what's happening to the Atropos, but I’m sure right now they have their hands full. They may not even know what’s happening down here with us yet or be in a position to do anything about it. In any case there wouldn’t be a reason to have crew in a module anyway, with the colonists in stasis and everything working. Modules have autopilot programming for planetfall.

How do you know? I ask.

I’m a pilot, he says, seating himself at the controls and powering up the displays. I’ve flown Corvus class freighters like the Atropos. Kirill Peshkor at your service.

Kayne Rusk, I say, I hate space.

Glad to hear that, Rusk, he says to me, pointing at the seat to his left amid flipping switches and rapping indicators with his knuckles or the ends of his fingers. He doesn’t look up. Sit there. You can help. The doctor and the woman are poking around the little room. I try to read the woman’s ID bracelet, but I can’t see it clearly. I recognize the letters Tatya... The bracelet has slipped round her wrist and is at the wrong angle for me to see the rest.

You two, I say, Please, at least one of you, go try to get people back in their pods. They’ll be safe that way no matter what happens.

"Safe-er, you mean, don’t you, Rusk?"

I swallow. Peshkor is right. The Atropos heaves. None of us is safe. She knows it too, this massive ship. It’s as if she is a living thing. I feel her shudder as if something huge is dragging across the modules docked to her hull. Peshkor says nothing, but his fingers move faster, and his jaw tightens. I tend my own equipment at a glance from him. I shouldn’t need to be prompted, but I’m so aware of how small I am. Safe-er.

Ch. 2. A Thing Obfuscates

Hecuva 2

The tight beam is away from Shadow Station almost before I see the LED flashing. What was that supposed to do? I’ve no idea. At least it wasn’t one of the weapons. By every god whoever put this station here deserves, well, I can’t think of anything in the moment that’s bad enough for them. The beam was aimed at the incoming freighter, and it takes me two hours of searching afterward to lock down the source, and that’s with my friends downstairs helping. I can’t figure out from the coding what it was intended to do. Nothing benign, I’m certain, especially when the light show starts...my friends downstairs report debris falling from the sky, and I know the Atropos is in trouble. I decide to quit fucking around and shut down the whole station if I can. I’ve learned a lot about this place. Do I know enough for a full shut down? What if I miss something? The station is dangerous.

Leslie 2

I’ve lost him, I’ve lost him! She’s panicked. I’m a meter away, assessing. Her hands are balled into fists: they are locked into the curve beneath her chin, one on each side of her Adam’s apple. She’s a blonde, or almost a blonde. A thick braid lays over one shoulder. Her face is red, like she’s been rushing around or running. Her eyes are blue and open wide. She wears a mask of dread as openly as the Zeus Mining patch on her left shoulder.

It’s okay, I say. I’ll help you find him. Who are we looking for? What’s his name? I would rather talk her down if I can than apply any special means here. I’m feeling the effects of my efforts: I’m freezing again and already burning with hunger. I know there is probably much more healing to do. Still, she is more upset than anyone I’ve met thus far. It must be a child she’s lost. I want to help her.

Lanning, she says, a whisper, Lanning Firth.

Okay, I say, Let’s find Lanning. How tall? Unthinking, I’m already looking around us for the form of a child or young adult, afoot or perhaps laying on the deck, injured. The open stasis pods in this room are all occupied, however; I see no children of any age in them. Do you know if Lanning left their pod? I glance at the woman again. I’m surprised to see her hand pointing behind me. It’s shaking. She doesn’t answer.

Ma’am, I say, Is that where Lanning is? Where’s your pod? Let’s go there. Maybe Lanning is there, Okay? Her eyes are bulging. I don’t need anything special to see her fear.

No need, says a smooth male voice from behind me. I think we’re all set here, aren’t we, darling? The man brushes round me, takes the woman by the elbow and wraps an arm around her, pulling her tightly to him. He’s about my height, short, sandy hair, wearing a ReconCorps patch on his colonial garb. His lips are smiling, but when his brown eyes meet mine, I see nothing but unpleasantness there. This is a grim and angry man. Say thank you to the nice young woman, darling, he says. Then tell her good-bye. Time for you to leave. He steers her by me. As they pass, the woman peeks at me over his shoulder. I feel a sudden jolt of raw energy. From her? Does she have special senses too, more physical than mine? Oh, that was unwise, I hear him say. He starts to turn her back in my direction, to face me once more.

I drop my eyes to my med bag, start stirring around inside it, feeling guilty as every hell. I am unarmed save my boot knife. Could she and I overpower this man? That’s when I think I see the marks on the back of his arm, but maybe it’s my own fear. The ghost of a filled circle surrounded by two concentric circles, with jagged bars radiating out from the center...the marks surround the apex of the man’s right elbow. The marks have been mostly eradicated, or maybe just covered up, I can’t tell which from here. Maybe those marks aren’t there at all, maybe they’re a pale illusion in my mind, But I find myself staring at them as he turns. A hunter. He’s a hunter, or he was. I see blood, too, on his back under his left shoulder blade and worry I’m making another assumption. The woman might’ve stabbed him, though he could’ve been injured in a fall, like Dr. Tacitus. Is that why they’re both so upset? Funny I didn’t feel that wound when he stood close by, but I’m starting to tire. What should I do?

Before he finishes turning, I look off to one side, hold up a finger as if I’ve been summoned: the imaginary person I’m looking at offstage will have to wait. I can’t resist glancing up the passageway, though, to the place the pair has walked. It’s like my gaze has been summoned. I meet the man’s eyes again, Lanning Firth, and he performs a perfectly uncanny smile for me before turning the woman back around and stepping toward a stasis room. I must be more careful. By every god, I have to get her away from him. Hunters must be watched if not outright eliminated, it’s what my parents taught me. I’ve never dealt with a hunter on my own. I’ve always been so much more careful than I’m being right now. Gods. Someone jostles me and when I look back again, the two of them are gone.

Kayne 2

"Come on, Come on, Kirill mutters. We aren’t firing. Undocking sequence won’t initiate. The Atropos won’t let us go."

It’s the power fluctuations. Must be interfering, Tatya says

Agreed, says Kirill. See what you can do. Kayne, did you find that manual override yet?"

Negative.

One of us may need to go outside.

Fuck, I say. Do we even have vac suits? Give me just a little more time. I do not want to go outside.

No need to go outside, Tatya is scowling at Kirill. I realize the big man is pointing a huge grin in my direction. Pilots.

There’s a module three over and two down from us that’s hung up in its dock. Module sixty-one. It’s venting gas. Not fast, but it’s venting through the dock and into space. It’s a personnel carrier. Tatya’s voice again.

Of course it is, I say. "Tatya, any others hung up like that? Not firing?

My name is Tatyana, she says. Checking. Yes. but not near enough to do anything about. I’m leaving them

Leave them. Kirill and I say as one.

I just said that.

Kirill, if we can undock this module and sixty-one, we can each fly one down, right? Want to do that?

Thinking, he says. Right.

I’ve got access points unlocked to and from docking so we can get from the modules to the Atropos and back, and I’m working on sixty-one’s control room door, Tatya says. Tatyana. The docking access is in the control room. She turns as a panel slides open behind her, revealing another small room: the mechanicals of the dock and an access point, an airlock to the Atropos.

That’s fabulous, I say. Ah! Manual override! I found it!

Let’s go to sixty-one, she says. The dock there needs repair. I can’t see everything over there from the workstation in here, much less fix it.

It seems to be a signal. Kirill rises, still entering information into his control prompts as he does so. Tatyana is already out the door and into the room beyond. My screen waits, cursor flashing patiently in the verification code prompt for the manual override. Once entered, the code should confirm the undocking sequence for our module. My eyes sweep the small room where the three of us have been working, locating an emergency ops tabcom right where it’s supposed to be, thank every god. I tuck it under my arm and head after them. The codes for every module will be stored on it.

We need that doctor you picked up! Kirill throws the words over his shoulder at me like a rock. He’s right. My steps slow, then I remember the emergency codes. Kirill, I shout. He doesn’t stop, just twists his torso around to see what I want. I pitch the tabcom to him and he plucks it neatly from the air, then he continues after Tatyana, to our docking station, the airlock, and the Atropos beyond.

For me, my destination becomes the passageway of our own module. I can hear the doctor’s voice from where I stand. He’s still shouting about people strapping into their stasis pods. People are shouting back at him, too. They might be getting tired of hearing his voice, though it does seem like he’s had an effect. The passageway is mostly free of people wandering, and those remaining seem to be helping others. I see a young brunette hold up a finger as if asking someone to wait. She’s digging in a medical supply bag. Then she just gazes past me for a moment before she shakes her head sharply, turns on her heel and heads the same way I’m going. I catch her quickly. She’s just a step or two ahead of me. She hurries down the stairs and enters a stasis room. The two of us reach the doctor’s pod at the same time. This can’t be good.

Leslie! He says, reaching a hand to her. Kayne. He sounds relieved. I see the blood; know the man has been injured. It looks bad. The brunette, a young woman about my height, tends him. She returns my nod of greeting. She looks wary, agitated. Well, everyone has a right to be afraid.

You did it, Doctor Tacitus, she says to him, laying a hand on his chest and leaning over him. Relax a minute and let me look at you, okay? I have bandages now. I’m going to dress that wound of yours.

Can he... I sigh. He clearly can’t. I need him. There’s another module. They probably have injured people in there too. The young woman, Leslie, is it? She looks at me hard and I feel suddenly sifted, like a specimen from my lab back home, one that’s undergoing some kind of examination. Curious.

I can come, she says. I want to bind this wound first, though. Help me. I’ll need more supplies, too. She gestures in the direction of the room’s entry, where the emergency supplies are.  We should also hydrate, and there’s supposed to be protein...some kind of food there. See it? Looking where she points, I see another medical bag stowed in an open locker a few meters away. I also see a stock of hydration pouches, but no food. I get the bag and some pouches for us, it’s obvious she wants me to. She’s rummaging in a locker under the stasis pod when I return, then she stands, throws me a protein bar, and slips a laser pistol into the holster she’s just belted to her middle. She looks very comfortable with the weapon.

I raise an eyebrow at her. Thanks, I say, waving the wrapped protein bar. I nod at her waist. Expecting company? I ask. I see her open another bar and break it, handing most of it to the Doc.

Maybe, she answers, distracted. Don’t push me. I see you’re armed.

Always.

She sighs, pops the bar into her mouth and chews. The two of us help the doctor with his trousers and dress the wound. It’s ugly but it looks strange to me, like it’s already healed for a week. Leslie says nothing, just cleanses the man’s skin, tapes closed the remaining fissure and applies a dressing. I think my eyes must be fooling me. It looks like the wound is knitting as I watch. Fascinating. I say nothing but pin the observation for further study later. The man’s immune system must be working in overdrive: would he consent to some testing?  It’s been less than five minutes since we arrived in this stasis room. I’m putting these back on you, Dr. Tacitus, she tells him, as we raise the man’s bloody trousers back up over his hips and lower his shirt. I don’t have anything better for you to wear right now. You cold?

Yes, but you can’t do anything about that either.

Leslie dips down again, stands with one of the wraps they’ve given us for when we wake. This’ll help, she says. The two of us hold the garment while the Doc puts his arms through the sleeves. We drape it over him backwards, so it covers him like a blanket.

You’ve lost a lot of blood. Drink these. Leslie says, handing the Doc two of the pouches I brought over. I crack one also as does she. Doc raises his to us like a toast. As one, the three of us make a terrible face: the hydration matrix tastes awful. Perhaps this is why there is so much of it left in storage.

Thank you, Leslie, Dr. Tacitus says to her. Be careful in that other module, please. He turns his head to me. Did we make it?

Think so, Doc, I say. We’ll be on the ground shortly. Got that errand first though, I say, clapping the man’s shoulder.

Did you hear that? We made it! Other similar talk begins in the open pods around us and spreads. By the time Leslie and I reach the room’s opening, the talk has erupted into a cheer.

What’re we walking into? Leslie asks me. We’ve reached the control room and the airlock that leads from our module into the Atropos proper. There’s a vac suit draped around the wheel that operates the hatch. Kirill. That sonofabitch, only one suit. It’s Atropos orange and there are patches on the left chest and right sleeve cap that say LodeStar Expeditions and Atropos.

Not sure, I say. I point at the suit. Take it. She does take it, with a tiny smile, quickly removing her weapons, zipping herself in. Rearming. We both search for another but find none. No suit. Godsdammit.

Stay here. I’ll get you a suit from the other side, or from the other module. Bring it back to you. She must be reading me well, or I’m less good at hiding my fear than I believe. I can’t wait to have my feet on the ground, where I can be myself again. I nod.

Leslie steps through the hatch, I see her on the other side, taking readings with an analyzer from her bag.  She bends, puts her head back through the opening, beckons. It’s okay in here, she says. Plenty of air. Come on. Her voice is muffled by the helmet of her suit, but I hear her clearly enough. I swallow, nod, step through myself.

We’re looking for module sixty-one, I say. It’s supposed to be three over and two down from where we are now.

Which direction? Over...down...what does that mean? She’s looking around. No suits here on this side, Leslie says. We’ll have to get one for you from the other module.

It takes a moment to orient ourselves to the module numbers, then we are off, counting. It’s strange in the deserted superstructure of the Atropos. The passageways all look the same, endlessly long, with docks branching to my right and intermittent hatches for other nameless things to my left. I imagine how the exterior of the ship must look, must have looked. I wonder what it looks like now. 

I can see the artist's renderings in my mind’s eye, the pictures that were used to attract willing colonists and to mollify those, like me, who’d had few choices but to come. I see again the powerful engines of the Atropos mounted at the stern of the ship, the bridge and other necessaries perched atop them like so many swarming insects. The pictures look like photographs, almost. Three long stacked rows of modules stretching on either side of the ship toward the bow, mounted to the Atropos’ rails via docking harness after docking harness, three modules high port and starboard, three rows of three on each side, seventy-two in all. They carry both personnel and cargo. I see the crew quarters rendered at the front of the ship in the artwork, and I remember the trainers saying, All critical functions have redundancy fore and aft.

As we run, I don’t stop to read signs, nor does Leslie, though the logo of LodeStar Expeditions is easy to pick out on every hatch. She calls out module numbers, though, as we pass. There’s sixty-three, she shouts, after we’ve descended two levels. Sixty-two. That’s it! Sixty-one. We’re here! I’ve heard no new impacts for some time, and the gravity has been stable. That seems like it should be good news to me, but I don’t know what to think about seeing no crew moving in the Atropos’ long passageway, and now that we’re in the Atropos, shouldn’t we at least feel the engines? I don’t remember. I’m about to mention this when Leslie starts to laugh. She’s pointing. I look, and there on the wheel of sixty-one’s airlock, another vac suit lies draped.

She opens the hatch while I zip myself in and rearm, then she checks my connections. I double check hers: we’re both good. Sixty-one isn’t, however. Its deck sits at an uncomfortable angle to the dock. The whole module will be this way, which bodes ill for the people inside. Also, the vac suits’ coms aren’t working. The system needs...something. The two of us will be shouting at one another when our headgear is up, though this isn’t such a hardship as long as we’re mindful of it. No gravity in sixty-one either. Not even a bit. We discuss all of this at volume as we’re headed through to sixty-one’s control room where we find both Kirill and Tatyana, headgear pushed back, working feverishly. It feels like ages, but I realize it’s been only about twenty-five minutes since we were working together like this in our own module. Amazing. I want to punch Kirill. I do not.

Found your suit, Tatyana says, smirking. Took you long enough to get here.

I sigh and push my headgear back. The doctor was injured badly in a fall. This is Leslie. She’ll help with the wounded. Leslie, that’s Kirill Peshkor, I point at the bald man, And Tatyana...I don’t know your surname, Tatyana.

Chemerkin, Tatyana says, her face softening a bit at the sight of the other woman. Welcome. What do we call you?

Just Leslie is fine, Leslie says, pushing back her own headgear.

Okay, just Leslie, Kirill says. We’re in here trying to patch an air leak and get this module to stop sucking its mama’s teat. Please do go herd some wounded. The leak, he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, "is in there but it isn’t big, so we have some time. We do not have much, however. Don’t dally." I see Leslie’s eyebrows shoot up at this speech of his.

Coms, I say. These suits have no coms. I want us to be able to talk to you.

Working on it, Tatyana says. Of course she is. I want overhead coms too, those are down as well, throughout the Atropos and on the modules. I’m patching in something local. I’ll ping you when it’s done, if it works. Leave me your suit serial numbers.

Both of us, Leslie and me, are carrying medical bags. There will be more supplies in the module, should we need them. I tell myself this as the control room door opens to reveal pandemonium, which only increases at the sight of our suits.

Ch. 3. A Thing Floats in Zero G

Leslie 3

There’s chaos beyond the control room door. There are four hundred eighty people in sixty-one, just like there are in every personnel module. With no gravity at all, it looks like all of them are up and floating around, though I know even without my special senses this isn’t the case. It’s clear there are many more people up and about here in sixty-one than there had been in my module, but certainly not all of them are, thank the gods. They look like a mass of bugs, crawling all over each other. Everything is moving in different directions. It’s crazy.

There’s a cry, and I realize I've been spotted, we've been spotted. I see heads turn, I see people whose momentum carries them every direction, into bulkheads, equipment and one another: they’re unused to zero gravity. I note one person right away who looks asleep, unconscious, or worse. They’re just floating among the others. Don’t those other people see? That person will be my first customer, and I saw them by accident. This reminds me I won’t easily be able to tell without my senses who needs me and who doesn’t in this mess. I also remember we’re wearing orange ship suits over our colonist garb.

They think we’re crew, not colonists, I say. The suits.

Good, Kayne says. It’s certainly helping get their attention. He holds up an arm, shouts for them to hear him and they settle somewhat. I see Kayne take a breath, open his mouth to speak. That’s when the questions start.

Are we there?

What happened? Why’s everything broken?

I can’t get my sister out of her stasis pod. Can you help me?

Kayne raises his other arm. I extend my senses. Calm. Calm. The module is stuck in the dock and can’t deploy to fly planetside, he says. Yes. That means we’ve arrived. There’s a cheer and a couple of moans.

I’m Kayne Rusk. This is Leslie. We’re here with some friends to unhang the module and get you folks on your way to Arcadia. Leslie and I will help with your injured and wounded. For those of you who aren’t hurt, we need you to get back in your stasis pods for landfall, okay? You’ve only got a few minutes. We’re working on the coms, too, so we’ll have some overhead announcements and maybe even some gravity...no promises there but we’re working on it. Now, get back to your pods! Tell everyone you meet! Don’t waste time!

His speech is short and pointed. People seem to listen and some start moving away, back to their rooms. Others make their way toward us. My hope is that not all of them are reporting injuries or wounded, but I also hope that not all of them have obnoxious questions to ask. I leave them to Kayne, push over to the motionless person I saw coming in. As I approach, I sense nothing. The body of this male is turning slowly in one place as if tethered. He’s taller than me. The limbs aren’t moving. Someone has placed a cloth round most of his head and tied it, but I see that blood is soaking through the cloth in a couple of places. It angers me to see him this way, left like this. The last hour coalesces for me into a knot of emotion. I grip the knot tightly in my mind, like Momma taught me, but it isn’t easy to control. I...I shouldn’t lose my temper. Nobody should. That’s what she always told me. Just breathe. But this man, left in the passageway, pushes my control. I feel the anger bleeding through the fingers in my head, just like the blood on the man’s cloth. My temper is getting free.

I check his bracelet. Viktor Amaliyev, Indentured, Zeus Mining, 164/3084, 61-J-21. By his birthday, he’s older than me. Indentured. That explains much. People often ignore the indentured. In many locations indentured are hated or have few rights at all.  I wonder what brought on his debt, if he boarded the Atropos with family or a friend. In any case, I won’t leave him here. He must be strapped into his pod, number twenty-one in stasis room J. Perhaps someone who loves him will find him more easily there, if he has someone on board. I turn to Kayne, find him surrounded by colonists floating at all angles who are pelting him with questions. I take a fistful of Viktor’s lapel and push off, back toward the melee, with purpose.

There’s no way to brake, no slowing my momentum. I have no intention of braking. I tow my dead man directly into the crowd, bowling into it without apology. Who left this poor man in the passageway? I shout. Viktor and I impact the group like a meteorite in slow motion, sending people spinning in every direction. It interrupts everything and Kayne looks relieved.

You people, which of you is from room J, hmm? Right now. Tell me. There is no time for this. My temper is free. I don’t care. I point at the nearest person facing me. You! You are going to take this man to room J and strap him into pod twenty-one. Understand? I will check. What is your name? I will report this to your employer if you do not comply, understand me? It’s a woman. She looks at me with anger. Will she defy me? Say your name! Take this man! I repeat. Room J, pod twenty-one! Then she does it. She gives me her name. She takes Viktor by a sleeve and hauls him away.

I’m not finished. The rest of you, if you aren’t injured, back to your pods and strap in! If you have injured to report, then do it and get the fuck back to your rooms! There is no time for this! They do it. A few come to us to be treated and are seen to. Others report injuries and we are finally at the work we came to do.

Can I talk to you now or should I wait? Kayne asks after some moments. That was, I don’t know...

"Effective? Charming? How about nice, I say, baring my teeth at him. They just left a dead man floating in the hallway. After one of them was kind enough to tie a rag around his head so he wouldn’t bleed all over everything." He raises an eyebrow at me. Then there is a crackle from my headgear. I hear Tatyana.

Leslie. Kayne. Do you read? We have local coms. How much more time do you need before sixty-one is buttoned up? she says.

I scramble, pull my headgear back on, pushing the faceplate up and out of the way so I can better fiddle with the throat mic controls. I read you. I say, looking at Kayne. He’s doing the same thing. He gestures thumbs up at the same time Kirill’s voice booms through the overhead speakers.

Everybody, Kirill Peshkor here. I am your handsome pilot. You’ve met Kayne Rusk and Leslie by now, I’m sure. You should know that we’re good neighbors from a module nearby and we’ve been working to free sixty-one from the dock so you can make planetfall on Arcadia. Something has activated the module release sequence on board the Atropos, I don’t know what that might be. We’re trying to contact the crew of the Atropos but are having no success. We will keep trying. To make planetfall safe, please go to your pods and strap in. Kayne and Leslie, you have fifteen more minutes to stabilize wounded and return to your module. Remaining wounded will be treated on the ground. Gravity and autopilot cannot be restored for this module. I will remain on board sixty-one to fly you down. Fifteen-minute countdown starts on my mark. Ready, MARK!

Kanye and I dash through the module. My senses are screaming with effort. There are many serious wounds, more than a few dead. He and I do the best we can. Other colonists help. At twelve minutes, my headgear crackles and Tatyana speaks in my ears. Time to go, she says. I’m splinting a limb. Once done, I meet Kayne. He’s pulling himself down from the top level of the module to the control room door.

"I must ask. Did you check that dead man’s