Kristine Rusch - City of Ruins

Yash’s level gaze met his.

“I need you to send your best people into the sector base,” he said. “The anacapa is malfunctioning. It’s occasionally sending out streams of energy that are so strong they’re blowing through rock and opening holes on the surface. At least that’s what the woman is telling me.”

“It would explain the strange map we got of the facility once the sensors came back online,” Yash said.

“That’s what I thought,” Coop said. “I want you to check on this, of course, but it would explain a lot. It would also explain how we got here, whenever here is.”

Yash nodded. “A buildup of energy in the systems. I’ll put someone right on it.”

Coop nodded. “Dix, I’m going to need a team. At least a dozen soldiers, you, me, and Rossetti. I need them ready in half an hour.”

“Are we in some kind of trouble, sir?” Dix asked, suddenly formal.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

“The woman and her translator, are we holding them?” Dix asked.

Coop shook his head. “They’re going to take us to the surface. They just don’t know that yet.”

“You want a landcar ready, sir?” Dix asked. “We’re a long way underground, and the emergency lift doesn’t work.”

“I know,” Coop said. “But if the anacapa is malfunctioning badly, I’m not sure what added energy from our landcar would do. I’d rather not risk that at the moment. We’ll either use the woman’s transportation or we’ll walk.”

“Getting out—”

“Will be hard, I know,” Coop said. “We might have to come back for the car. But there are too many questions here, and I need them answered before we go any further.”

“What’s going on, sir?” Anita was having trouble remaining still. She wanted to be part of this as well.

“I’m not sure,” Coop said. “I’m hoping this woman is lying to me. Because if she’s not…”

He let his words trail off. He shook his head.

“If she’s not?” Lynda asked. They all needed to know.

“We’re in trouble,” Coop said. “And the situation we landed in is a real mess. Maybe the worse we’ve ever encountered.”

“Is it our business, sir?” Dix asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Coop said. “But I’m terrified that it might be.”

“Terrified?” Anita asked, her voice trembling.

He looked at her. He realized he had never used that word, not once, in his entire command.

“Terrified,” he confirmed. Then he nodded once and left the bridge.

I sit there, my mouth open. The captain has just left. I’m not even sure what he’s understood, what he’s really been told.

Al-Nasir is sitting stiffly beside me. The lieutenant gets up. She sweeps a hand toward the food. We haven’t touched any of it.

I get up as well. I haven’t left the table since we started this discussion.

“What was the last thing you told him?” I ask as I reach for a pastry. It looks fresh and home baked, and I even recognize the form. Some things do move from culture to culture. “Did you tell him that the Empire would try to take his ship?”

She smiles at me distractedly. She takes a pastry, too, then waves a plate at Al-Nasir. He shakes his head once.

She sets her plate in front of her place, as if we’re at a formal dinner.

“No one can take this ship,” she says.

I frown. “We’ve found a lot of damaged Dignity Vessels.”

“You do not know if they were damaged by time or by someone else.”

“You have weapons scoring on the side of your ship.”

She blinks at me. For a moment, I think she’s going to pretend she doesn’t understand. Then I realize she’s listening to a link in her ear. Someone has confirmed the translation for her.

She nods. “They did not take our ship, did they?”

I set my plate down, then walk back to my seat. But I don’t sit. Instead, I take a sip of the wine. It’s strong, too strong for a business meeting. I set the glass aside, then go back to the sideboard for some water.

I am moving because it keeps me calm. I want to try the door, to see if Al-Nasir and I are prisoners here, but I do not. I said some alarming things to their captain. Perhaps he is checking on them. Perhaps he is consulting with their people. Perhaps he is checking the translations. I don’t know, but I’m going to give him a little time. Not a lot, but enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I hold up a pitcher, silently offering Al-Nasir some water. He nods. I pour him a glass as well, then give it to him. His hands are shaking.

“So what is going on here?” I ask the lieutenant.

“I’m not exactly sure,” she says.

“And if you were sure,” I say, “you wouldn’t tell me, right?”

“I do not know,” she says. “It would depend on my orders.”

She’s honest, at least.

I take a sip of my water, which has a filtered taste. I don’t try the pastry, not yet. I did sound melodramatic, telling him about the Empire. He has no way to confirm what I’ve said, either. It would sound as strange to me as the stories I heard about the Colonnade Wars when I was searching for information about one of their generals, years ago. Something that didn’t concern me, except in the way that it had just intersected with my life.

The door opens, and the captain comes back. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes radiant. He looks like a man who has come to some kind of decision.

I set the water glass down so that my hands don’t shake. I want to be prepared for anything.

His gaze meets mine, and he speaks with more animation than I’ve seen from him. The lieutenant translates.

“I’m sending a team to fix what you call the death holes. It shouldn’t take long. It’s a relatively common malfunction that we usually have safeguards for. Clearly all of the safeguards have failed.”

“Clearly,” I mutter. A common malfunction that kills a lot of people.

“What I need from you,” he says, “is guidance. I’m taking a team to the surface. I want you, Al-Nasir, the lieutenant, and I to accompany them. I need to see this Vaycehn myself.”

My breath catches. In my shock, I note that he actually said “Vaycehn” and pronounced it correctly.

Al-Nasir speaks before I do. He’s shaking his head as he does so, speaking in their language. I know what he’s saying. I walk over to him and place my hand on his arm. The protest should come from me.

“Captain, if you go to the surface, you jeopardize my team, my work, and this room, as well as your ship.”

“You have told me that they do not know we’re down here,” he says.

“And suddenly a military force climbs out of the hole?” My voice rises. “They’ll know then.”

I make myself take a deep breath as the lieutenant translates my words. Before she finishes, I add, much more calmly, “Al-Nasir and I will take you and the lieutenant to the surface. We’ll leave two of our people here, and hope the guides don’t notice the difference. We’ll show you around, and you can see for yourself—”

The captain is shaking his head before the lieutenant even tries to translate. Either he understands what I’m saying or he knew I was going to protest and is prepared for it.

The lieutenant gamely tries to translate, but he talks over her.

“I am sorry,” he says, and this time, it’s Al-Nasir translating for me. “But I cannot rely just upon your word. I have problems of my own that the Fleet needs to know about. I need to know where and when I am. My ship is in no danger, and we will be fine.”

I start to protest when the lieutenant’s translation gets to “my ship is in no danger.”