Dad was no longer speaking.
Withering away in his tethered bag, he spent more time asleep than awake, blisters boiling on every part of his face that wasn’t covered by his breathing mask. He was the epitome of anguish. His eyes appeared lifeless even when they stayed open long enough to focus. When Adam had last spoken to him, Dad’s words had been incomprehensible. Most likely he was imparting advice that he had learned the hard way, so that his son might not suffer the way he did.
Adam helped his mother change his father’s soiled clothes and cleanse the wounds opened by the radiation sickness ravaging his shattered body. He was numb to the world around him, withdrawn to a troubled place deep within. He spoke only when absolutely necessary. His only respite was the rig, where he would seek escape, only to be consumed by memories instead.
The mining platform was Dad’s legacy; the family business that he had hoped would give them a better life. That dream was lost. Even though one had nearly killed him, Adam found himself yearning to catch another glimpse of the Arkady. And though he had completed the herculean feat of restoring the rig’s production, the Ceti overlords who hauled away their spoils remained indifferent to their struggles.
Day after painful day blurred together, waiting for the inevitable, until one day Adam was awakened by the voice of a stranger in their home. From his room, he strained to listen to the conversation down the hall. A friend of Mom, perhaps, and presumably of Dad as well, and not one of those Ceti bastards.
Whoever he was, he was at least pretending to care.
‘This is everything I could find,’ the stranger was saying. ‘It’s not much, but it should buy him some time.’
‘We’re very grateful,’ Adam’s mother said. ‘Thank you.’
Then an uneasy silence.
‘Why don’t you come with us?’ the stranger asked. ‘My team can work the rig while you’re away, maybe even make some repairs. We can get Tomas the transfusion he needs, better provisions for you here … maybe even a visa to return to the Inner Rim.’
‘It’s gracious of you to offer, but no.’
More silence passed before the man spoke again.
‘Pardon me for asking … but for God’s sake, why not?’
‘Because we can’t leave here,’ Adam’s mother said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re
sorry
? What about your children?’
‘A transfusion would save him,’ Abby was saying. ‘Adam and I can run this rig ourselves.’
‘Our agreement with Ceti forbids him from leaving so long as we remain in debt,’ his mother explained. ‘The aid we were promised was allegedly seized by the Navy. Your freighter is just as likely to be seized or shot down with him aboard.’
Adam crept out of his sleeping bag and glided down the hall to listen more closely.
‘Dawn,’ the stranger said, ‘most of us have done well under Ceti. What happened here?’
‘What happened is that my husband became ill.’
‘All due respect, ma’am, but I can’t believe that’s the entire story.’
‘Some rigs are just luckier than others.’
Halting near the kitchen’s edge, Adam peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of the stranger. Though dressed in a survival suit, his appearance was too healthy to be a roughneck … short, lean, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. A kind face, concerned even, but one Adam did not recognise at all.
‘He won’t survive without this,’ the stranger said. ‘You know that.’
‘Tom’s wish is to remain here,’ came the response.
‘First time I’ve heard that,’ Abby commented, drawing a glare.
‘When is the last time either of them received transfusions?’ the stranger asked, nodding towards Abby. ‘Months? Years?’
His mother held his stare for a moment and then smiled.
‘Thank you for coming here,’ she said. ‘Tomas will rest easier now, thanks to you.’
‘What is
wrong
with you?’ Abby exclaimed. ‘Why won’t you accept his help?’
‘Abigail, that will be all,’ her mother warned.
‘I don’t understand,’ Abby fumed.
‘I’m afraid I don’t either,’ the stranger said.
‘You don’t have to,’ their mother said. ‘It’s my decision.’
‘I suppose it is,’ the stranger sighed, moving away from the table. ‘I did what I could.’
Abby wouldn’t let things end there.
‘This is
fucked
, Mom.’
And then she lost it entirely:
‘Abigail,
shut your mouth!
’ their mother shouted. ‘Larus,
get out!
’
Larus,
Adam thought, watching as the man disappeared through the far hatch of the kitchen, nearly brushing against his sleeping father as he went.
‘You are horrible!’ Abby yelled.
‘I’m trying to protect you!’ their mother hissed. Adam had never seen her like this before. ‘If he is moved from here, no matter what the reason, they will come after
you
and your brother. Our only hope is for someone to buy this fucking rig.’
‘Why?’ Abby demanded. ‘Why would anyone hurt
us
? What have you done?’
‘
We have no choice
,’ their mother roared. ‘Leave it at that!’
‘No, I will not “leave it at that”!’ Abby screamed. ‘I have a right to know! It’s my life!’
His mother glared at her, contempt in her eyes. Then she pushed off the wall and glided away, towards the module she slept in. Adam heard a hatch close shut, followed by a muffled thud.
‘Mom!’ Abby yelled. ‘Goddamn you, tell me why!
Why
!’
Adam had to get away.
‘
I fucking hate you
!’ he heard Abby scream. ‘
I hate you so much
!’
As she screamed herself into sobbing, Adam began climbing into his own survival suit, slowly at first, then quickly, as if his skin was on fire.
The tears found him on the way down.
By the time he reached the platform, all he could do was stand in the ammonia downpour, incapacitated with grief. The old Pegasus mech, confused by the physical inputs of his sobbing, attempted to convulse along with him. Adam wanted to lash out at his mother, even his dying father, because their suffering could have been avoided. That much was clear after the visit from this Larus fellow. Abby was right: they had a right to know everything now, even if they couldn’t understand it. Ceti was no saviour – if there was anyone to blame for his family’s hardships, it was them.
Adam tried to compose himself as he attached the refuelling hoses. The rain had ceased but the sky remained overcast, glowing in crimson hues as thick roiling clouds of amber and gold bubbled beneath him. With a deep breath, he hoisted a crate filled with replacement rig components that had descended with him. The Pegasus was in much better shape now, and with any luck, the overhaul he was about to begin would lead to an increase in
Three
production. Altogether, Adam had twelve hours of hard work ahead of him.
But soon, even routine tasks proved difficult. He had trouble concentrating, and that was a dangerous liability in the clouds of Zeus. Then, while bending to reach a switch valve, a rush of premonition seized him; real danger, possibly lethal, was imminent. He stood abruptly to scan the sky for trouble, when all of a sudden there was a terrifying
bang
, and his instruments went red.
The hydraulic actuator on the mech’s right leg had blown apart, spraying bits of metal and fluid all over the rig. Adam was paralysed: the machine was immobilised below the torso. To reach the sled, he would have to pull himself there using its arms.
His dread barely had time to register when he glanced up and saw an Arkady hunter – the largest he had ever seen – soar over the rig railing. The creature halted in the jet stream, snapping its fleshy black wings wide open and taking the current on directly; it hovered like a gunship as electrical pulses hurtled through translucent tentacles that lashed onto the rig’s railing.
Then a second hunter appeared, just as monstrous as the first, and latched on beside it.
Adam’s heart was racing; he had to return to the sled
now
. More of the creatures were darting about – dozens at least. He dropped the mech’s good leg and bent forward, assuming it would fall onto its belly. But instead, it fell backwards with a crash. Adam was facing the blood-red sky, frantically trying to turn the machine over so he could crawl, when a huge shadow fell upon him.
The massive creature he had seen weeks earlier had returned, and the hunters tethered to the railing were reaching out with other tentacles to grab hold of the beast’s huge wingspan.
Mesmerising electrical patterns erupted beneath the skin of the beast’s underside; chains of lightning coruscated from one undulating wingtip to the next. Scores of gills fluttered in waves with the wind; glimpses of dark internal organs revealed themselves during fierce flashes of light. Schools of hunters were present now, sailing past in packs of ten or more. Lumbering majestically above the hunters, the beast covered the entire surface area of the rig.
Suddenly, the electrical pulses ceased. Adam was staring at a black, undulating shadow now. Conceding that escape was impossible, he sat up, terrified but fascinated.
The beast’s underside flashed a single pulse of light, followed by darkness.
Then twice in quick succession.
Three, and then darkness.
Adam watched in surreal amazement as it kept this pattern up, losing count in the twenties.
Then it restarted with one. Two. Three … and on.
It was just too deliberate to be an accident.
Quickly, Adam withdrew his arms from the actuator controls of the mech and began typing into the console. Cursing his clumsy gloves, he wrote a simple algorithm that used the Pegasus’s cameras to count the number of pulses. All the while, the creature relentlessly kept up its steady pattern.
His algorithm determined that it was pulsing up to twenty-six times before starting over.
Adam eyes opened wide. There was nothing extraordinary about that number,
other than being the exact number of letters in the UNSEC Standard Language
.
He had to answer. First he tried waving his arms; then he remembered the mech’s floodlights, flipping them on and off.
The creature changed its pattern:
1 – 4 – 1 – 13
Adam adjusted the program to map the pulse count to its corresponding letter.
A name spelled out on his console.
Impossible!
Adam started flashing his floodlights to respond, then thought better of it and began writing another program that would translate keystrokes into floodlight pulses, when the beast’s pattern changed again:
18 – 1 – 4 – 9 – 15 …
Radio?
Adam flipped the transmit switch on his comms, selecting a random frequency used by other rigs.
‘Hello?’ he asked.
The beast flashed another pattern, much faster this time, and the console translated:
WHY ARE YOU HERE
Adam had never felt more intimidated by such a simple question. The surrealism of the experience, coupled with his adrenaline response, was making his head pound.
‘Because we need fuel?’ he said aloud.
Another eruption of pulses. Adam hoped the cameras could keep up with the barrage. When the beast finally finished, the console had spelled out:
THERE IS DANGER
WHY DID YOU RETURN
The hunter packs were veering closer, radiating pulses of their own. Adam keyed the radio tentatively.
‘My family won’t survive if I don’t.’
A frantic burst of effulgence consumed the beast, and the hunters seemed to respond with a light show of their own. After a few moments, its underside went dark, and the sharp light pulses returned.
FAMILY
MOTHER AND CHILDREN
THIS WE KNOW
The wind had grown stronger, and Adam sensed that the hunters were struggling to maintain their grip between the beast and the railing. More of them appeared and lashed on to help, some grabbing intake pipes that were very close to where Adam was sitting. He was completely surrounded by the creatures, and the luminescence beneath their skin, rapidly changing colours, appeared threatening.
‘What do you want from me?’ Adam asked.
The activity abruptly stopped. After a few moments, the creature resumed its communication:
WE WISH TO CROSS THE VEIL
‘The “veil”?’ Adam asked.
WILL YOU HELP US
‘Me? Help
you
?’
WE OFFER WHAT THE VEIL HAS SHOWN US
Adam had never felt more excited, or helpless.
‘What are you?’ he asked. ‘How can you hear me?’
ARKADY
YOU CALL THEM WAVES
ELECTROMAGNETIC WAVES
WE FEEL THEM
SEE THEM
FROM AFAR
The strobe of lights was hurting Adam’s eyes.
‘How can you understand what I’m saying?’
WE LEARN FROM YOUR RADIO
YOUR KIND SPEAKS TO THOSE IN THE VEIL
THIS WE KNOW
‘Wait, do you mean
space
?’ Adam asked. ‘The blackness above the clouds? That’s where you want to go?’
YES
WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU