SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Understood.

Ten days ago, Emile Deveroux wrote:

There’s a serious problem with the corn. They thought the modifications we made to deal with the new Martian superbugs were solid, but the Marsies in our test kitchen all ended up in the ICU. We’re keeping it quiet down here. Stall the talks until we can get hold of some nonmodified corn to send up for samples.

“Well,” Cadet Sherazi said, “ that ought to prove you didn’t do it.”

“There’s more,” Cadet Rajan said. She showed me her own tablet, on which she’d pulled up another of Ward’s emails:

To: clark.ward@agricorp-alliance.org

From: Emile.Deveroux@globalfarms.com

Re: Success

Message: Glad the stink bombs worked. I have some more code for you. This will cause an airlock malfunction on the lower decks. The air pressure warnings will clear any personnel before the place vents, but it should make them think they’ve got some major technical issues.

I showed the message to Sherazi.

He read it over and rose from his chair. “We have to show this to my mother immediately.”

The door hissed open. “Show me what, Kiyan? Oh.”

Rajan and I bolted to attention. “Commander—”

“As you were, Cadets. Kiyan, I didn’t realize you were bringing guests.”

“Commander,” I started again. “Clark Ward was responsible for the stink bombs.”

“Cadet, you’d better not have asked my son to bring you to my quarters so that you could—”

“Maman,” Cadet Sherazi interrupted. “You really ought to have a look at her tablet.”

The commander stared at me for a long moment, then held out her hand. “This had better be good.”

“I found some messages between Ward and one of his people back on Earth,” I said.

She looked at my tablet, and I guess she got as far as realizing I had his files before she stopped to glare at me. “You found some messages, Cadet?”

Lesson 5 : I am not permitted to access trade delegates’ tablets without permission. This is true even if there is no law against accessing a system that’s open to remote requests, Ward has no proof that his system was locked, and the cracking tools I allegedly used are apparently so ingeniously hidden that no one inspecting my tablet has been able to find them.

I met her gaze. “Yes, Commander, I found some messages, and you really ought to read them.”

She turned her attention back to my tablet. When she was done reading, I directed her to the message Cadet Rajan had found.

Her eyes widened. Then she handed my tablet back, turned on her heel, and headed for the door. “Go to your wardroom and stay there, Cadets.” Into her wrist cuff, she said, “Sherazi to the bridge. Secure all airlocks immediately. Inform Captain Mbata I need to speak to him at once.”

When the door had closed behind the commander, Rajan, Sherazi, and I all looked at each other.

“I bet he’s on his way to the brig,” Rajan said.

Sherazi smiled. “The brig’s on the way to our wardroom.”

“For definitions of ‘on the way’ meaning ‘I owe that guy a polite gesture of contempt which in no way resembles conduct unbecoming an officer in training,’” I said, starting for the door.

We arrived in the corridor outside the brig just in time to watch Ward being walked out of the lift.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the bulkhead, glaring.

“You,” he hissed, as the marines walked him past us.

“Yeah, me,” I said. “You’re a giant bag of Richards, Mr. Ward.”

Commander Sherazi rounded the corner at the far end of the hall, with Captain Mbata beside her.

“This doesn’t look a thing like your wardroom, Cadets. Do you need a marine to escort you?”

“No, sir,” we said, and scurried for the lift.

Lesson 6 : An order to “Go to my wardroom and stay there” means go directly to my wardroom and stay there. It does not mean “Go to my wardroom by way of deck ten to watch Clark Ward, Corporate Tool, be perp-walked to the brig.”

“Blanchard,” Captain Mbata said.

We all stopped in our tracks.

I turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“You want to tell me why the voice-lock on my console asked me to recite ‘The Purple Cow’ in front of the entire bridge crew this morning?”

I coughed. “Perhaps you should ask Mr. Ward about that, sir.”

“I know it was you, Blanchard.”

Lesson 7 : Never suggest that Captain Mbata “can’t prove a thing.” He can and he will.

Originally published by Galaxy’s Edge Magazine, January 2015 issue, edited by Mike Resnick

Molten lava flowed through Death Valley, bypassing islands of glowing flint and brimstone. The air stank of sulfur and decaying corpses. Dark acid clouds were scattered throughout the amber sky. Occasionally, vengeful lightning discharged fury against the agonized soil.

In short, it was a wonderful day, thought Esh.

The small fire imp stopped in front of the magma pit.

“Go away,” boomed a voice.

“But, Mistress!” said Esh, taking a step back.

“You dare to defy my words?”

Esh looked at the she-daemon who rose out of the boiling hollow. She was a good-looking mistress. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. Her pitch-black eyes shone like the abyss, reflecting intelligence and wisdom. With her feminine horns and folded bat-like wings, no mortal woman even came close to Sheda’s beauty.

“Satan demands your presence, Mistress.” Esh bowed. “Humans have infested his den.”

“Again?” Sheda sighed.

Esh shrugged, staring at the she-daemon.

“This human infestation problem is growing beyond…”

Suddenly, she groaned. Black marks appeared on her forehead.

“What’s wrong, Mistress? Aren’t you feeling well?”

She grabbed Esh’s hand and squeezed it tight. “My belly…I feel…ill.” Esh saw her face turning green. “It’s so painful…”

Esh felt helpless. “Shall I call for aid? Perhaps Satan can help.”

“Curses!” She shook her head. “I think I’m being summoned.”

“Summoned? That’s horrendous. Who dare…”

“It’s those damn sorcerers from Earth,” whispered Sheda, still holding her abdomen. “Why can’t they solve their own problems? Why do they need to involve us daemons in their puny affairs? I don’t care who this wizard is. I swear I’m going to eradicate him! Damnation shall fall upon his soul.”

In that instant, Sheda vanished into thin air.

Sharp pain hit Esh in his stomach. The whole of Gehenom began to spin. Smoke and steam engulfed his small body. Something pulled him into oblivion.

Slowly, Esh regained his vision. His first thought was to fly out of there. The fire imp fluttered his tiny wings. Something smashed into him. He flinched in pain and charged again, only to be subjected once more with grief by that cursed, invisible barrier.

“We’re trapped,” said a charming soprano voice.

“Mistress, what happened to us?”

Sheda said nothing.

Esh looked downward. Both he and Sheda floated helplessly above a glowing pentagram which was painted on the floor. The dim illumination intensified the direness of their situation. This wasn’t Gehenom. In fact, this place didn’t look like anything he had ever seen in any of the upper plains. They were in a cold, dark, flameless dungeon.

Around them he noticed a few broken tables, traces of blood, body parts, smashed armor, shields and other shattered weapons of war.

Furthermore, there was her. The one which was complete. The only non-mutilated body. Her beautiful yet motionless statue looked alive; frozen inside a large amber cube, a seven-foot-long rectangular prism.