“There! Do you hear it?�
“Hear what?�
“That sound. It’s coming over the radio,� Hiro gasped exitedly.
“I just hear radio chatter, and you breathing into the com system. That’s all I hear,� said Dudley over the com, his voice scratchy from the static.
“I’m not going crazy,� protested Hiro.
“Didn’t say you were,� signed Dudley with practiced resignation. “I am just saying that I don’t hear whatever you’re hearing.�
“Must be local,� mused Hiro. “Hey, give me your coordinates.� Dudley complied without reply. Hiro read the coordinate readings on his MFD. “Yeah, maybe you’re too far away. There’s a nebula nearby. I bet it’s coming from there. Some kind of radio frequency noise or electrostatic…� he trailed off. It was so beautiful.
The sound was that of a woman singing. If Hiro closed his eyes, he could almost see her. Her eyes were like the stars shining. Her long hair flowing like a cool blue nebula. Her song was lyrical and languid and sad at the same time. There were no words to it, but a longing: a soul-tugging far-away desire in space like a lone star twinkling in a night sky at the edge of the galaxy. It was always just on the edge of perception, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was a real sound, or a sound in his own mind, like a dream, but he felt it, and he thought he heard it, and it was always in the same area of the Rift. It called to him.
Since he had heard it the first time, he kept going back to that area of space where he heard it last, hoping to find the source. Sometimes, he would sit for hours and not hear her. Other times, he would try different frequencies and almost immediately hear her voice, just on the edge of perception. He tried to make out words, but there were none, just the musical, lilting sound of her voice, drawing him deeper into the asteroid field where his homeworld once existed.
Hiro did not believe in ghosts, but he could not help but to wonder what could be making the sound.
“I’m heading back,� said Dudley. “I’ve got what I came for.� Dudley only flew out into the asteroid field to pick at the bones. When the planet was destroyed, it simply evaporated into space. Much of what was on the surface of the planet was still in one piece, in the asteroid belt, vultures like Dudley scavenged what was left, sometimes picking up old paintings, bicycles, foodstuffs, and all manner of other mundane artifacts. Well, they were mundane on their homeworld, but in deep space, they were quite exotic. He sold one leather lounge chair to a barman in Starport 13 for almost ten thousand credits.
“Fine. I’m staying here.�
“Suit yourself,� said Dudley, and then Hiro was left alone to follow the sound. It was there, just under the radio chatter. Beneath the squawking masculine voices of other pilots there was a feminine sound, like a woman humming to herself while performing some mundane undertaking. Hiro tried to tune it in better, but anywhere he changed the frequency lost the signal. He then tried orienting his ship in different directions and found that the volume increased slightly when he pointed toward the nebula. He gave the thrusters a gentle push forward to see if that helped. He could not tell right away if it helped, but the sound did not go away, which was what he feared.
Hiro tried talking to other pilots about the sound, but nobody took him seriously. He sounded, they thought, like those pilots who go on long jump journeys and start seeing diamond-shaped objects in space. It was just space-sickness, they called it, nothing more. It was a kind of mental disturbance that comes with prolonged sensory deprivation, lack of day and night cycles, and most of all, lack of social interaction. After long stints in space without anyone to talk to, pilots start to hallucinate and form delusions. To them, that’s all Hiro was, only instead of snapping out of it, like most pilots did when they finally got to their destinations, Hiro was obsessed by his hebephrenic funk. That’s what they thought of him, or at least, what Hiro imagined that they thought of him.
He wondered if that was the onset of paranoia.
[Edited on 5-26-2010 by Nigel_Strange]
The Siren
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IckleChesh
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The Siren
Again with the JEST!! I think that is gonna be my pet hate for the week!
Nice one Nigel. Did anything come from the suggestion of an Evochron collection of stories that was suggested a while ago?
IC
Nice one Nigel. Did anything come from the suggestion of an Evochron collection of stories that was suggested a while ago?
IC
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
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Maarschalk
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The Siren
Another cool one or relatively warm and fuzzy....LOL...waiting for the next chapter.....
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Maarschalk
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The Siren
Originally posted by Eclipse
Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you!
Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrghggghhhhh.....another absolute.....!!!!!!! Absolute relatively confusing. Some one is always out to get you....LOL.....
:P:P:P:P[Edited on 5-19-2010 by Maarschalk]
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Maarschalk
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The Siren
No it is not, Eclipse and I had many a PvP sessions and Flying missions and contracts together......LOL....
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Nigel_Strange
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The Siren
Part 2
Sunlight filtered through the dust and debris, the asteroids causing shadowy streaks through the grime. The dust settled on his ship in a thin wispy layer as he slowly plowed forward without power. The dust would get shaken off the first time he used the afterburner, but he was careful to avoid it, or anything else that would break the spell. He drifted forward and inward, with his head cocked to the side, listening for his lady.
Hiro was married once. Like many refugees of the blasted planet Freedom, he lost his home, his wife, and his children all at the same time. So many spacers were in the same situation. It was a natural consequence of being away from home on long space flights. It was usually assumed that the spacer was the one taking all the risks, but most spacers enjoyed the risks but more importantly accepted them as a way of paying for the safety and security of their planetbound families. All this is turned upside down when aliens simply destroy the planet.
Why did they do it? He asked himself that every day, and every day the answer eluded him and collected in a tiny little ball in the center of his soul, a ball of dark matter that was ever growing until, perhaps, one day it would achieve critical mass: a ball of hatred. Whenever possible, he vented that hatred on the vonari stragglers he found loitering in his homeland, or rather, home asteroid field. He had a case of Excalibers that he would use whenever the opportunity presented itself. The effect was to momentarily stop the growing ball of hate. It never got smaller, but it stopped growing when he was in the thick of the killing. He hoped that somewhere, far away, there were vonari widows weeping over their dear departed, if they had proper families, which he doubted, since no being with a family was capable of their kind of evil.
He continued forward, lost in thought, floating, and carried forward by the invisible thread of the voice. He could still not make out the words, but they seemed to become more emotionally charged, more desperate, as he moved. His heart began to ache. Was it Laura, his dead wife, somehow calling to him? He still did not believe in ghosts, but somehow, in the dead of space, things that you don’t believe in have a habit of starting to seem believable.
He saw some lights playing on a large asteroid to his right, so he used the maneuvering thrusters to glide over and see what it was. The scanners showed some kind of ancient vessel that they probably hadn’t made in a hundred years. An antique. As he drew closer, he saw the scratched red lettering on the dull, grey steel hull that was riveted together like an old iron warship: Thunker.
“Hoy,� said a gravelly voice from Thunker’s com.� The sudden break in the spell was both jarring and infuriating. Hiro collected himself before answering.
“Hoy, there,� he replied.
“What news from the outside?�
“Not much.�
“Oh, you must have some information. I’ve been cooped up here for months and haven’t heard or seen anything.�
“You haven’t heard the voice?�
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man,� said Thunker. “I sometimes get radio squabbles, but nothing I can make out. Seen some vonari too. I have to power down when I see them blip up on radar. They’d come and gemme if they knew I was here.�
“Why are you here?� asked Hiro, immediately regretting it. He could not help but be curious, but he did not want to prolong the conversation, which was interfering with his mission.
“I’m just a miner. These space rocks are a great source of platinum.�
“You realize that this was my home, right?�
“Sorry about that, young sir,� replied Thunker. “I truly am. If I could bring back your world, I would, but since I can’t, this is the only way I can make a living.�
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll be on my way,� said Hiro, reaching for the knob to turn back the dial.
“You have anything to trade?� asked the old man with creeping desperation.
“Nope. Sorry,� replied Hiro curtly, and switched off the connection to Thunker. Once again, he was surrounded by silence.
“Damn!� he cried. Frantically, he turned the knob back and forth, but he heard nothing but static and the usual squawks from the other pilots. She had gone. He had gotten closer than he had been before, and might have found her, but for the old man in the rust bucket. Furious, he pressed the com button again.
“Hey, Thunker!�
“Yes?�
“I’ll sell you some foodstuffs and meds on one condition.�
“What’s that?�
“That, after this, you won’t try to contact me again if you see me.� There was a long silence, then the docking lights on Thunker lit up and Hiro nestled his ship into the docking ring. “Deal,� said the old man.
Sunlight filtered through the dust and debris, the asteroids causing shadowy streaks through the grime. The dust settled on his ship in a thin wispy layer as he slowly plowed forward without power. The dust would get shaken off the first time he used the afterburner, but he was careful to avoid it, or anything else that would break the spell. He drifted forward and inward, with his head cocked to the side, listening for his lady.
Hiro was married once. Like many refugees of the blasted planet Freedom, he lost his home, his wife, and his children all at the same time. So many spacers were in the same situation. It was a natural consequence of being away from home on long space flights. It was usually assumed that the spacer was the one taking all the risks, but most spacers enjoyed the risks but more importantly accepted them as a way of paying for the safety and security of their planetbound families. All this is turned upside down when aliens simply destroy the planet.
Why did they do it? He asked himself that every day, and every day the answer eluded him and collected in a tiny little ball in the center of his soul, a ball of dark matter that was ever growing until, perhaps, one day it would achieve critical mass: a ball of hatred. Whenever possible, he vented that hatred on the vonari stragglers he found loitering in his homeland, or rather, home asteroid field. He had a case of Excalibers that he would use whenever the opportunity presented itself. The effect was to momentarily stop the growing ball of hate. It never got smaller, but it stopped growing when he was in the thick of the killing. He hoped that somewhere, far away, there were vonari widows weeping over their dear departed, if they had proper families, which he doubted, since no being with a family was capable of their kind of evil.
He continued forward, lost in thought, floating, and carried forward by the invisible thread of the voice. He could still not make out the words, but they seemed to become more emotionally charged, more desperate, as he moved. His heart began to ache. Was it Laura, his dead wife, somehow calling to him? He still did not believe in ghosts, but somehow, in the dead of space, things that you don’t believe in have a habit of starting to seem believable.
He saw some lights playing on a large asteroid to his right, so he used the maneuvering thrusters to glide over and see what it was. The scanners showed some kind of ancient vessel that they probably hadn’t made in a hundred years. An antique. As he drew closer, he saw the scratched red lettering on the dull, grey steel hull that was riveted together like an old iron warship: Thunker.
“Hoy,� said a gravelly voice from Thunker’s com.� The sudden break in the spell was both jarring and infuriating. Hiro collected himself before answering.
“Hoy, there,� he replied.
“What news from the outside?�
“Not much.�
“Oh, you must have some information. I’ve been cooped up here for months and haven’t heard or seen anything.�
“You haven’t heard the voice?�
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, young man,� said Thunker. “I sometimes get radio squabbles, but nothing I can make out. Seen some vonari too. I have to power down when I see them blip up on radar. They’d come and gemme if they knew I was here.�
“Why are you here?� asked Hiro, immediately regretting it. He could not help but be curious, but he did not want to prolong the conversation, which was interfering with his mission.
“I’m just a miner. These space rocks are a great source of platinum.�
“You realize that this was my home, right?�
“Sorry about that, young sir,� replied Thunker. “I truly am. If I could bring back your world, I would, but since I can’t, this is the only way I can make a living.�
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll be on my way,� said Hiro, reaching for the knob to turn back the dial.
“You have anything to trade?� asked the old man with creeping desperation.
“Nope. Sorry,� replied Hiro curtly, and switched off the connection to Thunker. Once again, he was surrounded by silence.
“Damn!� he cried. Frantically, he turned the knob back and forth, but he heard nothing but static and the usual squawks from the other pilots. She had gone. He had gotten closer than he had been before, and might have found her, but for the old man in the rust bucket. Furious, he pressed the com button again.
“Hey, Thunker!�
“Yes?�
“I’ll sell you some foodstuffs and meds on one condition.�
“What’s that?�
“That, after this, you won’t try to contact me again if you see me.� There was a long silence, then the docking lights on Thunker lit up and Hiro nestled his ship into the docking ring. “Deal,� said the old man.
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Maarschalk
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The Siren
Nice going, can't wait for Chapter 3, but I guess I have to...LOL...
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Nigel_Strange
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The Siren
After the airlock sealed, Hiro opened the hatch. The air on the other side was cold and damp. An odor of cabbages and machine oil wafted into the cabin. Hiro immediately regretted making contact with the Thunker and wondered if he were exposing himself to some ancient disease that had been lurking on this boat for hundreds of years. Besides the smell and the moisture, there was a deep rhythmic clanking sound coming from the bowels of the ancient vessel. It sounded like an iron heart beating away the minutes. He was reminded of an ancient belief that every organism had a million heartbeats in its life before it died. He wondered absently if he was about to see the millionth one for this ship.
The leering, bearded face of the pilot was below. The man wore denim overalls without a shirt underneath. No shoes or sock. He floated there looking up expectantly as Hiro descended. His skin was creased but white, and had an unpleasant sheen to it. Hiro could see that the old man had not seen natural sunlight for a long time, and had a waxy look to him. The man extended a repulsively moist hand. Hiro eventually decided to shake.
“Sterling Adams,� said the man. “Pleased to meet you.�
“Hiro Yamada,� Hiro returned indifferently.
“Come this way,� said Sterling, pushing off a rail with his bare troll feet. Hiro added foot odor to the list of smells that made up the bouquet of the ship. “I made some tea,� he added conspiratorily.
The tea ceremony was made awkward by the ridiculous attempt to use terrestrial china in a zero gravity environment. The ceramic kettle, which was quite ornate with gilded handle and flowery embellishments, had some kind of jerry-rigged pumping mechanism. The water was pumped in through the top and then the lid was secured and buckled down with a leather strap. Sterling then shook the teapot, presumably to get the water to mix with the dried leaves he threw in. The pot floated a few inches above the table for a few minutes while Sterling tried to engage Hiro in smalltalk. After this gesture, he used the hand-pump to extract the tea into two waiting teacups. Each cup was ornately made of fine bone china, so thin as to be slightly translucent. The saucers were taped to the table, and the cups had magnets glued to the bottom so that they would stick to the saucers, which had a similar arrangement. Each cup was gloriously crowned with a plastic drink lid with a straw stuck in the top.
“Be careful sipping,� admonished Sterling. “You’re really not supposed to drink tea through a straw because it comes up so hot.
“Thanks,� said Hiro. “I’ll take it under advisement.�
“Sorry, but I don’t have anything else besides zero-g tea,� Sterling said with a wan smile. “So, what have you got for me?�
Hiro went over his inventory and found a couple of crates of canned mudsucker from Emerald. Mudsucker was a local “delicacy,� which is to say that it was an “acquired taste,� which was another way of referring to crud that nobody in their right mind would eat. It went for a high price, though, anywhere outside of Emerald, where they knew what it was. Packed in salted gelatin and flavored with soy, one could almost get past the rubbery texture were it not for the gritty filling. Besides this, he had some antibiotics that he kept specifically for the purpose of trading. In return, Sterling had a few kilograms of silver that he collected with his mining rig.
Sterling was counting out the proper amount of silver grains for the food and meds when Hiro asked him a question that had been on his mind since he arrived: “You’ve been out here in deep space for some time, haven’t you?� Sterling looked up and nodded.
“Yup. Been out here for a couple of years now, mostly minding my own business.�
“How do you maintain your sanity?�
“Ah, heck. I don’t maintain it anymore. Too much trouble. I keep it in a box,� he replied. Hiro waited patiently for an explanation.
After a long pause, Hiro broke the standoff. “Really? You keep your sanity in a box?�
“Oh, sanity!� cried the old man. “I thought you said scanner-d.�
“No.�
“The secret is to compartmentalize,� said the ancient. “You can’t sit around all the time pondering things that you can’t test. You have to focus on the task at hand, and ignore everything else. That’s how I do it. One thing at a time, one day at a time, and then, after a few days, a few years have gone by, and I’m still sane…or at least, I still think I’m sane.�
“Huh,� said Hiro.
“The video disks help a lot too,� said the old man with an expression of conspiratorial lechery. Hiro did not ask for clarification. “What brings you to this nowhere space?� he asked after the long silence in which Hiro squirmed with discomfort.
“It sounds crazy, even to me,� he said.
“Try me,� said Sterling, looking up from his silver. Hiro told him about the voice and how he had followed it into the interior of the asteroid field. Instead of laughing at him, though, the man nodded with a grave look. “Yes, I know what you mean,� he said at last. “I’ve heard it too. I’ll tell you, though, that you’re a fool for chasing after it.�
“Why?�
“What do you think it is?�
“I don’t know.�
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t chase after it. You don’t know what it is. For all you know, it’s like the sirens of the old myths, luring young pilots to their doom because of the eerie beauty of their songs. Or, it could be a vonari trap.�
“You don’t think it could be ghosts?� asked Hiro.
“I’m old, but I’m not that old. I don’t believe in ghosts. Least-wise, I never seen one, and so I ain’t got a reason to believe in ‘em. But suppose it is a ghost? Then what are you chasing? What do you expect to find? Maybe the ghosts are lonely and they want some more dead folks around to chit chat with,� he said with a chuckle. Hiro eyed him suspiciously. “Now don’t get all hackle-raised on me, I was just kidding ya. You like my tea set? I found it floating out here, in the asteroid field. The whole set, totally undamaged. What kind of a space weapon blows up a planet and doesn’t break the china? I figured that this must be the last set of china in the entire sector.�
“Thanks for the tea,� said Hiro.
“You’re welcome, son. Now listen. When you get back on your ship, turn it away from this asteroid field and go to the nearest station. Get a girl. Get a drink. Listen to some music. Watch some vids. Get your mind off of your voice. The longer you stay, the more it will eat you up inside. You got it bad, kid: I can tell. Past a certain point, there is no going back,� he said.
“I’ll take it under advisement,� said Hiro. As he left, he was still trying to decide if the old man was crazy or not, and if not, if whether he should follow his advice and just leave, never to come back. In the end, he decided that the old man was crazy. It was the tea set that did it.
The leering, bearded face of the pilot was below. The man wore denim overalls without a shirt underneath. No shoes or sock. He floated there looking up expectantly as Hiro descended. His skin was creased but white, and had an unpleasant sheen to it. Hiro could see that the old man had not seen natural sunlight for a long time, and had a waxy look to him. The man extended a repulsively moist hand. Hiro eventually decided to shake.
“Sterling Adams,� said the man. “Pleased to meet you.�
“Hiro Yamada,� Hiro returned indifferently.
“Come this way,� said Sterling, pushing off a rail with his bare troll feet. Hiro added foot odor to the list of smells that made up the bouquet of the ship. “I made some tea,� he added conspiratorily.
The tea ceremony was made awkward by the ridiculous attempt to use terrestrial china in a zero gravity environment. The ceramic kettle, which was quite ornate with gilded handle and flowery embellishments, had some kind of jerry-rigged pumping mechanism. The water was pumped in through the top and then the lid was secured and buckled down with a leather strap. Sterling then shook the teapot, presumably to get the water to mix with the dried leaves he threw in. The pot floated a few inches above the table for a few minutes while Sterling tried to engage Hiro in smalltalk. After this gesture, he used the hand-pump to extract the tea into two waiting teacups. Each cup was ornately made of fine bone china, so thin as to be slightly translucent. The saucers were taped to the table, and the cups had magnets glued to the bottom so that they would stick to the saucers, which had a similar arrangement. Each cup was gloriously crowned with a plastic drink lid with a straw stuck in the top.
“Be careful sipping,� admonished Sterling. “You’re really not supposed to drink tea through a straw because it comes up so hot.
“Thanks,� said Hiro. “I’ll take it under advisement.�
“Sorry, but I don’t have anything else besides zero-g tea,� Sterling said with a wan smile. “So, what have you got for me?�
Hiro went over his inventory and found a couple of crates of canned mudsucker from Emerald. Mudsucker was a local “delicacy,� which is to say that it was an “acquired taste,� which was another way of referring to crud that nobody in their right mind would eat. It went for a high price, though, anywhere outside of Emerald, where they knew what it was. Packed in salted gelatin and flavored with soy, one could almost get past the rubbery texture were it not for the gritty filling. Besides this, he had some antibiotics that he kept specifically for the purpose of trading. In return, Sterling had a few kilograms of silver that he collected with his mining rig.
Sterling was counting out the proper amount of silver grains for the food and meds when Hiro asked him a question that had been on his mind since he arrived: “You’ve been out here in deep space for some time, haven’t you?� Sterling looked up and nodded.
“Yup. Been out here for a couple of years now, mostly minding my own business.�
“How do you maintain your sanity?�
“Ah, heck. I don’t maintain it anymore. Too much trouble. I keep it in a box,� he replied. Hiro waited patiently for an explanation.
After a long pause, Hiro broke the standoff. “Really? You keep your sanity in a box?�
“Oh, sanity!� cried the old man. “I thought you said scanner-d.�
“No.�
“The secret is to compartmentalize,� said the ancient. “You can’t sit around all the time pondering things that you can’t test. You have to focus on the task at hand, and ignore everything else. That’s how I do it. One thing at a time, one day at a time, and then, after a few days, a few years have gone by, and I’m still sane…or at least, I still think I’m sane.�
“Huh,� said Hiro.
“The video disks help a lot too,� said the old man with an expression of conspiratorial lechery. Hiro did not ask for clarification. “What brings you to this nowhere space?� he asked after the long silence in which Hiro squirmed with discomfort.
“It sounds crazy, even to me,� he said.
“Try me,� said Sterling, looking up from his silver. Hiro told him about the voice and how he had followed it into the interior of the asteroid field. Instead of laughing at him, though, the man nodded with a grave look. “Yes, I know what you mean,� he said at last. “I’ve heard it too. I’ll tell you, though, that you’re a fool for chasing after it.�
“Why?�
“What do you think it is?�
“I don’t know.�
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t chase after it. You don’t know what it is. For all you know, it’s like the sirens of the old myths, luring young pilots to their doom because of the eerie beauty of their songs. Or, it could be a vonari trap.�
“You don’t think it could be ghosts?� asked Hiro.
“I’m old, but I’m not that old. I don’t believe in ghosts. Least-wise, I never seen one, and so I ain’t got a reason to believe in ‘em. But suppose it is a ghost? Then what are you chasing? What do you expect to find? Maybe the ghosts are lonely and they want some more dead folks around to chit chat with,� he said with a chuckle. Hiro eyed him suspiciously. “Now don’t get all hackle-raised on me, I was just kidding ya. You like my tea set? I found it floating out here, in the asteroid field. The whole set, totally undamaged. What kind of a space weapon blows up a planet and doesn’t break the china? I figured that this must be the last set of china in the entire sector.�
“Thanks for the tea,� said Hiro.
“You’re welcome, son. Now listen. When you get back on your ship, turn it away from this asteroid field and go to the nearest station. Get a girl. Get a drink. Listen to some music. Watch some vids. Get your mind off of your voice. The longer you stay, the more it will eat you up inside. You got it bad, kid: I can tell. Past a certain point, there is no going back,� he said.
“I’ll take it under advisement,� said Hiro. As he left, he was still trying to decide if the old man was crazy or not, and if not, if whether he should follow his advice and just leave, never to come back. In the end, he decided that the old man was crazy. It was the tea set that did it.
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Maarschalk
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The Siren
LOL, maybe the old man had fond childhood memmories of the tea set....
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The Siren
sorry it took me so loong to comment, really loving your style, and the story is great dude.
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Nigel_Strange
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- Joined: Fri Mar 25, 2005 5:51 am
The Siren
Hiro guided his ship forward under inertial power for a time that seemed like ages. Thunker was lost behind him: a distant memory. There was no sound in space. Even the squawks from other pilots over the com system were sporadic and terse. The urge to turn back and try to forget about the beautiful voice grew within him and when it finally attained critical mass, he whipped the stick around and was about to engage the jump drive when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye: a vonari attack ship.
“All alone?� he asked aloud. “Where are your friends now?� Hiro checked his missiles, diverted the energy fully to primary weapons, and engaged the afterburner. “Nobody is going to hear you scream,� he muttered, closing in on the ship. The vonari ship seemed oblivious to Hiro’s approach.
Ancient martial artists swore that they could feel the killing intent of their enemies. It was an instinct that they honed to a kind of sixth sense. Hiro had learned to feel it in others and had learned to conceal it in himself. Hiro felt certain that anything could have felt his killing intention as he closed in, even across the vacuum of space. He was not trying to conceal it: he wanted a fight. There was no response, though. It was like following a drifting asteroid. As soon as missile lock was acquired, he let fly the Excals and watched the trail of death catch the ship and rip it asunder. It was over in an instant: a quick kill.
Then, he heard it. Right where the smoking debris of the vonari ship had been, he could barely make out the voice over the radio. It called to him. Was it his wife calling to him from beyond the grave? Was she praising him for ridding the universe of another vonari? He drifted forward as though pulled gravitationally toward the object of his desire. The voice grew faint, then returned. Hiro listened, enraptured by the unearthly beauty, spellbound in its melancholy aria to a dead world as he gazed at the spinning cold rocks that had once been part of that world.
He followed the voice for hours, sometimes losing it, sometimes picking it up again. He could never quite understand the words, never quite hear it well enough to satisfy his burning need to hear it more, never find its source. It tore at him from the inside, yanking his heart out through his throat, so that was all but consumed by the desire to be united with it, forever. Then, it stopped.
The voice was gone. Hiro tuned the radio up and down the frequencies, but there was no trace of it. He then realized that he was out of fuel and had been drifting in the asteroid field without fuel for some time.
“Ok, Hiro,� he said to himself. “Don’t panic. It’s not the end. Someone out here can get me.� He turned on the emergency beacon. There was a brief flash of light in the cockpit, then a dimming of the MFD screens. The HUD went dark. Hiro realized that the emergency beacon had malfunctioned and shorted out the entire system. He put his hand up to the air vent that supplied his oxygen, but felt nothing. His ship had become a coffin in space. Not even the radio worked anymore. The way he figured, he had about thirty minutes of air left in the small cockpit, so he tried to breath as slowly as he could while trying to think of a way out. Ice began to form on the windshield. Hiro turned up the heat on his suit and prepared for death. He thought about his wife. He was looking forward to seeing her again.
Commander Conrad looked up from his log screen as the chief engineer knocked on the bulkhead near the bridge entrance, making a deep ringing iron sound. The rest of the crew was quiet.
“Come in, ensign,� said the commander.
“We’ve finally isolated the source of the energy leak in the shield system.� The officer’s Adam’s apple rubbed against the stiff collar of his uniform as he talked.
“I assume you fixed it.�
“Yes sir.�
“Good, without that harmonic radio noise we can run totally silent again. Having a cloaked carrier is pointless if they can get a fix on you by radio triangulation. I was getting tired of those vonari ships sniffing at our wake.�
“Not just vonari, sir� said the science officer.
“Report,� answered Conrad.
“Civilian mercenary craft. Looks like they’re drifting without fuel.�
“Spies?�
“Not likely, sir, unless they planned to be out of fuel somewhere in our vicinity. Their life support is down. Minimal heat readings inside the cockpit, but possibly viable.�
He brought up the ship on his screen and studied it. “Looks like Renegade markings,� he mused. “One of our guys. Get a ship to give them some fuel and then see what they do,� commanded Conrad. He leaned back and turned on the radio, hearing only silence.
“Nice job on the shield noise, ensign,� he said, looking at the tall, gangly officer.
“Thank you, sir.�
“It is a pity, though,� Conrad continued. “I had begun to entertain the fancy that she was singing.�
“Singing?�
Conrad glanced up at the portrait of Aurora, the woman after whom he named his ship. “When I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that she was happy again.�
“All alone?� he asked aloud. “Where are your friends now?� Hiro checked his missiles, diverted the energy fully to primary weapons, and engaged the afterburner. “Nobody is going to hear you scream,� he muttered, closing in on the ship. The vonari ship seemed oblivious to Hiro’s approach.
Ancient martial artists swore that they could feel the killing intent of their enemies. It was an instinct that they honed to a kind of sixth sense. Hiro had learned to feel it in others and had learned to conceal it in himself. Hiro felt certain that anything could have felt his killing intention as he closed in, even across the vacuum of space. He was not trying to conceal it: he wanted a fight. There was no response, though. It was like following a drifting asteroid. As soon as missile lock was acquired, he let fly the Excals and watched the trail of death catch the ship and rip it asunder. It was over in an instant: a quick kill.
Then, he heard it. Right where the smoking debris of the vonari ship had been, he could barely make out the voice over the radio. It called to him. Was it his wife calling to him from beyond the grave? Was she praising him for ridding the universe of another vonari? He drifted forward as though pulled gravitationally toward the object of his desire. The voice grew faint, then returned. Hiro listened, enraptured by the unearthly beauty, spellbound in its melancholy aria to a dead world as he gazed at the spinning cold rocks that had once been part of that world.
He followed the voice for hours, sometimes losing it, sometimes picking it up again. He could never quite understand the words, never quite hear it well enough to satisfy his burning need to hear it more, never find its source. It tore at him from the inside, yanking his heart out through his throat, so that was all but consumed by the desire to be united with it, forever. Then, it stopped.
The voice was gone. Hiro tuned the radio up and down the frequencies, but there was no trace of it. He then realized that he was out of fuel and had been drifting in the asteroid field without fuel for some time.
“Ok, Hiro,� he said to himself. “Don’t panic. It’s not the end. Someone out here can get me.� He turned on the emergency beacon. There was a brief flash of light in the cockpit, then a dimming of the MFD screens. The HUD went dark. Hiro realized that the emergency beacon had malfunctioned and shorted out the entire system. He put his hand up to the air vent that supplied his oxygen, but felt nothing. His ship had become a coffin in space. Not even the radio worked anymore. The way he figured, he had about thirty minutes of air left in the small cockpit, so he tried to breath as slowly as he could while trying to think of a way out. Ice began to form on the windshield. Hiro turned up the heat on his suit and prepared for death. He thought about his wife. He was looking forward to seeing her again.
Commander Conrad looked up from his log screen as the chief engineer knocked on the bulkhead near the bridge entrance, making a deep ringing iron sound. The rest of the crew was quiet.
“Come in, ensign,� said the commander.
“We’ve finally isolated the source of the energy leak in the shield system.� The officer’s Adam’s apple rubbed against the stiff collar of his uniform as he talked.
“I assume you fixed it.�
“Yes sir.�
“Good, without that harmonic radio noise we can run totally silent again. Having a cloaked carrier is pointless if they can get a fix on you by radio triangulation. I was getting tired of those vonari ships sniffing at our wake.�
“Not just vonari, sir� said the science officer.
“Report,� answered Conrad.
“Civilian mercenary craft. Looks like they’re drifting without fuel.�
“Spies?�
“Not likely, sir, unless they planned to be out of fuel somewhere in our vicinity. Their life support is down. Minimal heat readings inside the cockpit, but possibly viable.�
He brought up the ship on his screen and studied it. “Looks like Renegade markings,� he mused. “One of our guys. Get a ship to give them some fuel and then see what they do,� commanded Conrad. He leaned back and turned on the radio, hearing only silence.
“Nice job on the shield noise, ensign,� he said, looking at the tall, gangly officer.
“Thank you, sir.�
“It is a pity, though,� Conrad continued. “I had begun to entertain the fancy that she was singing.�
“Singing?�
Conrad glanced up at the portrait of Aurora, the woman after whom he named his ship. “When I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that she was happy again.�
