Spirited (27 page)

It made no sense. If everything was intact, why had she disappeared? More puzzling, if she had been orbiting this gas giant for the last three decades, why hadn’t she sustained any damage? Needles of ice danced over his skin as he tried to decipher the mystery.

Captain Richardson, however, wasn’t willing to wait. He shoved Josiah out of the way and leaned over the sensors. He hooted and pounded the console with his fist. “Excellent! If the interior is intact as well, we should get a good haul.” The captain dropped into the pilot’s seat, and his stubby fingers stabbed at the controls. “Let’s dock and see what we can find.”

A slight tremor in the deckplates tickled Josiah’s feet. He frowned. Something felt off. Yes, the engines tended to rattle the ship, but that faded quickly. This time, the tremor turned to a shudder, then to shaking, then to a rocking that nearly pitched Josiah out of his seat.

“What’s going on?” Richardson demanded. His fingers clawed at the piloting station, his knuckles white.

Josiah couldn’t answer. His teeth ground together as the violent bucking intensified. The entire ship howled around him, starting as a low moaning that pitched higher and higher until a deafening shriek swirled through the bridge.

And then a voice, low and grating, the sound of massive rocks grinding together deep within a planetary core, spoke: “Leave us. You are not welcome.”

“Says who?” Richardson shouted.

The voice repeated its message, so loudly that Josiah clapped his hands over his ears. If this kept up, the ship would shake itself to pieces. In mere seconds, he would be sucked out into the vacuum, taking up orbit with the
Night Queen
around the planet. He laughed, a mirthless bark. He didn’t even know the gas giant’s name.

Silence sliced through the cacophony. The violent shimmy stopped. Josiah clung to the edge of his chair, expecting it to start again.

After a few moments of tense peace, Richardson hauled himself out of the pilot’s chair. He turned to Thompson and jabbed a finger at him. “Go check the ship, make sure we’re not venting atmosphere or anything.” As soon as Thompson disappeared from the bridge, the captain whirled on Josiah. “What did you miss?”

Josiah glanced between the sensor console and the captain. “Nothing! There were some anomalies, sure, but there was nothing that would—”

Richardson yanked Josiah out of his chair and leaned over the sensor console. He scowled at the data readout for a few moments before snorting. “Thought so. What’s that, genius?”

Josiah peeked over the captain’s shoulder. A faint ion trail, probably caused by the engines of another ship, twisted through the system, heading for the
Night Queen
.

“From a Federate ship?” A guess, but Josiah hoped he was right.

Richardson shook his head. “No way. The fuel mix is all wrong for the Federates. No, I’ve seen this signature before. It’s…” The captain’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Sanchez.”

Josiah’s eyes widened. He had never met Sanchez, but the captain had spoken of her often enough. Richardson’s former partner, she’d stabbed him in the back six years ago, cutting him out of the best salvage operation they’d ever run. Since then, she was always one step ahead of Richardson, claiming the best salvage and leaving him the crumbs.

The big man’s hands spasmed into fists. “Thompson! We gotta move! If she thinks a little shake and shimmy is going to scare me off…”

“You think she did that?” The question escaped Josiah before he could think about it.

“Isn’t it obvious? She hasn’t been able to start her salvage operation yet. So she set up something to scare off the competition. We have to move fast, get in there and claim the wreck before she can return. Thompson!”

“Way ahead of you, Cap.” Thompson handed Richardson a holstered weapon. “Ship is good. Whatever that was knocked some cans out of the galley cupboards. That’s about all.”

“Good.” Richardson strapped on the gunbelt. “Let’s get what’s ours.”

Josiah eyed the captain’s gunbelt. Shouldn’t he be armed too?

Thompson patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid. If you get scared, you can always hide behind me. I’ll protect you.”

Somehow Josiah didn’t find that reassuring.

~*~*~

A rhythmic clanking echoed through the ship as the salvage vessel docked with the
Night Queen
. Josiah jumped at the sound, the muscles in his arms twisting painfully tight. Would they hear another angry command, ordering them to leave? When nothing happened, he relaxed, but only a little. His stomach tumbled at the thought of boarding the derelict.

Richardson slapped the back of Josiah’s head again. “No daydreaming, boy. Get on the probe controls and see what we have.”

Josiah rubbed his head to massage away the sharp sting. Ever since he’d discovered the ion trail, Richardson had been a coiled spring. If they didn’t board the
Night Queen
soon, Josiah worried the captain would snap.

Josiah slipped through the salvage vessel’s narrow corridor and into the expansive cargo bay. He hesitated in the door for a moment, the deep shadows pressing down around him. A chill shimmied up his spine, radiating out through his arms. But he couldn’t keep the captain waiting. A quick jog through the emptiness took him to the airlock hatch.

The probe, little more than a box on wheels, squatted next to the hatch. Josiah pulled on the virtual reality helmet and slipped on the control gloves. After he switched on the system, a hologram sprang to life inside the helmet, hovering before his face, an image of what the probe could “see” through its sensor. The airlock hatch towered over him, his own dark shadow looming across the pitted metal. Weaving his hand through the proper motions, Josiah ordered the hatch open, and the probe rolled through.

“We haven’t got all day, boy. What are you waiting for?” Richardson’s voice, though tinny through the helmet speakers, still carried enough venom to cause Josiah to wince.

“Equalizing pressure now,” Josiah reported.

A hiss shot past the probe, and the doors to the
Night Queen
ground open. Josiah swallowed as a well-lit but empty hallway appeared before him. He ordered the probe forward, but it hesitated, as if it didn’t want to enter the derelict alone. Josiah revved its engine, and finally it darted forward.

The probe skittered down the starliner’s corridor, and Josiah swiveled its sensors left and right. The interior matched the exterior: the walls gleamed, the carpet looked untouched, and according to the atmospheric readings, the life support systems were still working. But beneath the virtual reality helmet, Josiah frowned. It all looked too perfect. Where had the passengers gone? The probe rolled by a corner lounge, the furniture, the decor, all in place, as if waiting for human occupancy.

Five minutes crept by, and the probe moved deeper into the
Night Queen
. By Josiah’s count, the probe had passed sixteen cabins and an entrance to a promenade, but he still hadn’t found any indication the
Night Queen
had ever been occupied. Had the passengers abandoned this part of the ship after the disaster? But if that were the case, why would they have cleaned up after themselves so thoroughly?

The probe rolled past a bank of escape pods, still in their berths. So the passengers hadn’t abandoned ship. Josiah grunted. That would have explained a lot, but—

Josiah paused the probe to get a better look at the control bank. The whir of the probe’s engines died, only to be replaced by the sound of footsteps behind him.

Josiah turned, lifting the helmet up to peek into the shadowed cargo bay. Nothing. And yet, he could still hear the footfalls, coming closer…

No, wait.
He
wasn’t hearing footsteps. The probe was!

He tugged the helmet in place and frantically signaled for the probe to turn around. The wheels dug into the carpet, and the probe spun in place, even as the footsteps sounded louder and louder in the helmet. Josiah trained the sensors on the hallway behind the probe.

Nothing.

Josiah’s breath thundered in his ears, filling the helmet. His heart ricocheted off his ribs. He squinted at the holographic images. Tense minutes unraveled until Josiah calmed himself. He shook his head. He must have imagined the whole thing. Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Josiah ordered the probe to turn back around. The wheels hummed, and the images inside the helmet spun…

Only to come to rest on a small boy staring at the probe with wide eyes.

Josiah gasped. Whoever the boy was, he looked horrible. His clothing was little more than rags, his blond hair ratty and matted. His eyes, blue pools, shone in the bright light, his lower lip trembling. He spun and dashed down the corridor, disappearing around a corner.

“Hey, wait,” Josiah cried, then snarled at his own stupidity. The boy couldn’t hear him. He ordered the probe forward. It careened down the hall, almost tipping over as it shot around the corner—

A brilliant flash of light sliced through Josiah’s eyes, accompanied by a loud shriek. He ripped off the helmet and tossed it onto the floor. He stared at it for a few moments, then cautiously picked it up and peeked inside. The holographic interface had gone dark, the signal from the probe lost. He looked up at the sealed airlock door, his breath ragged.

“What’s going on down here?” Richardson stomped through the cargo bay, Thompson in his wake.

Josiah glanced down at the helmet, then up at the captain. “I think… I think something destroyed the probe.”

Richardson’s face screwed up into a scowl. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! The probe picked up footsteps, and then there was this little kid, but when I tried to catch up with him, a light flashed and—”

The captain glanced at Thompson, who rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“Kid’s just jumpy is all, Cap. Cut him some slack.”

Heat flashed through Josiah. “I am not.”

Richardson slammed into Josiah, driving him up against the bulkhead. Josiah squirmed under the captain’s iron grip, but Richardson pressed a forearm against Josiah’s throat.

“Do you know what’s on that ship? Rare art by the Geoshan master Kirkwall. Uncut Orion gems. Twenty crates of six-hundred-year-old brandy from Earth Prime. And that’s just in the cargo holds. No telling how much wealth is waiting for us just beyond that airlock. I’m not gonna let some vac-head, waste-of-atmosphere like you ruin this for me, got it? Now suck it up and let’s get going.”

“But the probe—”

“It’s Sanchez! She must have rigged a trap, and you rolled the probe right into it.”

“But—”

“Shut up! You’d better keep it together, got it?”

Josiah didn’t meet the captain’s wild gaze. Richardson snarled and pressed harder. Josiah winced but nodded. Richardson stepped back, allowing him to slide to the deck.

“I’m docking the cost of that probe from your cut.”

Richardson stepped over him into the airlock. Thompson started to follow, but he paused, stretching out his hand to help Josiah up. Josiah grabbed hold and started to pull himself up, but Thompson let go. Josiah fell with a thud.

The demolitions expert laughed. “Keep up, kid. Wouldn’t want the spooks to get you.”

Thompson disappeared into the airlock. Josiah followed rubbing his rear. As soon as he got his cut, no matter how big it was, he was out of here. He just hoped he survived long enough to collect it.

~*~*~

“Deploying lock-pick.” Thompson pressed a small lump of explosives against the cabin door, jammed a detonator into the gray goo, and took a step back.

Josiah rolled his eyes. Was Thompson going to make that dumb joke for every cabin?

With a muffled
whump
, the explosive blew a hole in the door. Thompson stuck his hand into the opening and forced the doors open. Richardson brushed past him into the cabin beyond. Thompson glanced at Josiah and made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arms as if welcoming him to high tea.

Richardson wasted no time. Once again he pulled the drawers from their slots and dumped them on the floor. He ripped the sheets from the bed and looked underneath. With a roar, he tipped over a bedside stand and kicked it across the room.

“Where is everything? Every cabin, empty.”

Josiah looked away, not wanting to anger the captain further. By his count, they had ransacked a dozen cabins and found nothing. The beds were made, the lights on. They looked like images from an advertising brochure. But they hadn’t found any luggage or any indication anyone had ever been in them.

Thompson leaned against the open doorframe, idly picking at his fingernails. “Maybe this part of the ship wasn’t used?”

Richardson shook his head. “According to the records, the ship was booked full. No empty rooms. I don’t get it.”

Josiah glanced over Thompson’s shoulder to the corridor beyond. He wanted nothing more than to leave the
Night Queen
, the planet, the entire system behind and look for something else.

“Let’s move on. Next cabin.” Richardson dusted off his hands.

Thompson saluted, smirking. “Got it, Cap.”

Josiah sighed, nudging one of the overturned drawers with his toe.

“You have something to say, boy?”

He didn’t meet the captain’s gaze. “No, sir.”

“I think you do. You’ve done nothing but sulk since we came on board. If you have an opinion, some insight into what we should be doing, now’s the time to share it.”

Josiah shrugged. “No, it’s nothing. I just—”

Thompson bellowed from the hallway, an indistinct shout that suddenly bled into a blood-curdling scream. Richardson shoved past Josiah into the corridor. Josiah hesitated for a moment, casting one last look around the trashed cabin, and then followed the captain into the hall.

Richardson stood in front of a cabin door, staring at the explosives packed along the lock. But Thompson was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a detonator and his knife lay on the deck as if dropped. Josiah turned a full circle, looking for some sign of struggle, maybe scuff marks on the carpet. Nothing. The demolitions expert had simply vanished.