Eugene Lambert - The Long Forever

On Barzahk, a desolate and wintry mining world where surface temps can’t be arsed climbing above zero even in summer, we get a scare. And then, at last, a break.

Our scare comes as Murdo’s lining up our descent to the surface. Sky’s in the co-pilot seat again. I’m watching from behind them. Our lights are dimmed and I’m drinking in the view of Barzahk below. One second Murdo’s tapping away at a control panel, the next he’s cursing.

‘We’ve got incoming.’ He jabs a finger at the display before him. ‘It’s a fraggin’ warship. ComSec!’

The screen shows an outline of the planet below, with our yellow dot orbiting it. The bigger red dot that Murdo points out is closing in from our right side. I peer through the side viewport and spot a tiny speck.

‘There! I see it.’

Murdo gets busy at his panel. The display dissolves, reforming to show a brutal-looking spaceship.

‘Can we outrun it?’ Sky asks.

Murdo shakes his head. ‘Doubt it. Too late to try. We’re already well within range of their blast –’

A shrill alert from the comm system interrupts him.

‘Freighter in Barzahk orbit, this is Combine Security cruiser Nantahala . Identify yourself immediately and make ready to be boarded for a routine inspection.’

A woman’s voice. Casual. Assured.

‘Crap!’ Murdo thumps his head back into his headrest.

Sky lashes out at him. ‘Well, do something!’

‘Like what?’ he groans.

Nantahala woman repeats her demand, curtly this time.

My racing mind comes up with a desperate idea. ‘Maybe being caught by ComSec isn’t so bad? We could come clean and tell them everything. Wrath, idents, the Saviour exploiting us. It’s not our darkblende, is it? And we haven’t done anything wrong. All we’ve done is escape.’

Murdo and Sky both scowl at me.

‘Why not?’ I say, as bile fills my throat.

‘Because, Kyle,’ Murdo says savagely,‘ComSec play rough and they wouldn’t listen. They’ll just hang us as smugglers. Oh yeah, and escaping from a dump world is a hanging offence too. Good luck confessing to that.’

But now Sky makes us jump by letting out a loud yell.

‘The cruiser’s breaking off !’

I drag my eyes back to Murdo’s screen. Stabs of blue light flicker at the cruiser’s bow. Thrusters? Slowly but surely it swings around and shows us its stern. Next thing, a massive flare of blue overloads our screen as it lights up its drive. By the time the screen’s working again, all it shows are stars and a blue dot that’s getting smaller fast.

Murdo grunts. ‘Well, how about that?’

‘Never said goodbye or nothing,’ Sky says, grinning.

‘Rude, I call it,’ I croak, playing along, while relief sucks the bones out of my legs and sets them shaking.

Murdo flicks the display back to the Barzahk system. The red dot that’s the cruiser streaks away from us.

‘Not hanging about, are they?’

‘Good!’ I say. ‘What do you suppose happened?’

‘Might be something to do with this. I’m picking up a broadcast on the emergency comm channel.’

He taps at his panel and speaker-hiss fills the flight-deck. Amongst the buzz and crackle, I make out a new voice. Whoever he is, he sounds seriously tense.

‘Mayday, mayday, mayday . . . heavy two zero zero nine out of . . . chhhrrr . . . inbound Thessalus six . . . chhhrrr . . . being pursued . . . unidentified raider . . . I say again, we are being pursued . . . chhhrrr . . . interstellar coordinates are . . .’

‘Thought so. Distress call,’ Murdo says, and kills the signal. ‘Whoever those raiders are, if we bump into them the drinks are on us. They’ve saved us.’

‘Too right,’ Sky mutters.

‘Wonder what will happen to the freighter?’ I say.

‘That call will have taken days or weeks to crawl its way here at light speed,’ Murdo says, intent on his controls again as he starts our descent to Barzahk’s surface. ‘Whatever played out, it’s all over by now.’

‘So why’d the cruiser clear off ?’ I ask, confused.

‘There might be survivors who need picking up. And they’ll be looking to chase the raider down. The Combine is all about creds. They won’t take kindly to losing one of their heavies, or its cargo.’

‘Not our problem,’ Sky says. ‘Is it?’

‘Guess not,’ I say, as we start our bumpy descent.

We get our break at an outdoor bazaar full of blue-lipped stallholders shouting their wares through clouds of misting breath. A bundled-up Barzahk merchant woman beckons for Murdo to join her in the shadowy back of her tented stall. A wood stove glows there. We go to follow him, but her assistant – as wide as I am tall – blocks our path.

Sky’s teeth chatter. ‘Who’d want to live here?’

‘Not me, that’s for sure,’ I say.

By the time Murdo reappears we’re nearly frozen solid. As we stumble through the snow back to the landing field, Murdo tells us he has good and bad news. Sky being Sky wants to hear the bad first. Murdo tells us the woman isn’t a buyer. Not because the darkblende could be Syndicate, more because she just hasn’t got the funds we’d be looking for.

‘The good news is she hates the Syndicate. Her only son had taken over her business. Syndicate guys came calling and the fool talked back to them. They gutted him. Made her watch.’

‘Lovely,’ Sky says, shivering. ‘How’s that good?’

‘It means she hates them enough to want to spite them. Gave me a lead. Somebody who still does a bit of business behind their back. And he’s . . . not far away.’

We both notice his hesitation.

‘But?’ Sky says sharply.

Murdo pulls a wry face. ‘But he operates out of the Ark. It’s a rough old joint. And I’m a wanted man there.’

‘Wanted?’ I say.

‘For killing a man. It was self-defence. He cheated me. But it’s worth the risk anyway. Happened when I was your age, so I don’t suppose anyone will know me now.’

‘You don’t suppose ?’ I say.

‘He’s old now and ugly,’ Sky says, winking at me.

‘Hey, less of the ugly,’ Murdo says. As Barzahk’s bitter wind slices through us, there’s a spring in Murdo’s step. My guess is he’s already spending his share in his head.

Our take-off and climb back to orbit are uneventful. By the time Murdo’s set our new course I’m almost warm again. Sky’s still bundled up though, and wracked by coughs.

‘Why don’t you go lie down?’ I say. She’s sick enough already and could do without catching a chill.

But all I get is glared at and told to mind my own business.

I ask Murdo if this Ark place is our best chance to sell the darkblende, or our last chance? He shrugs, says it’s either that or we’ll have to risk approaching the Syndicate. He says not to worry, that he’s got a good feeling.

Sky snorts so hard she starts coughing.

Later, curled up together in the sleep bay we share, Sky sighs so loudly that she wakes me up.

‘Something wrong?’ I ask.

She wriggles around to face me. ‘If we do manage to flog the darkblende, will you still help me find Tarn?’

‘Course. Gave you my word, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah, well. Words are easy, and creds are tempting.’

Now it’s my turn to sigh, and I make a bit of a meal of it. In the gloom we’ve made by rigging up a curtain, Sky’s breath is warm on my face.

‘Okay, okay. But what if this Ark guy turns his nose up at the darkblende like the rest? Selling it back to the Syndicate seems crazy. They’d kill us.’

‘Murdo’s sure it won’t come to that.’

‘He’s not sure, he’s just greedy. Creds are all he cares about.’