January 5, 2363 AIA

The Colibri

Vas stared out the viewport. He didn’t even look around when he heard the heavy metal tread of Lynx ascending the ladder behind him.

“Captain, I have finished my inspection. Your suit is ready.”

Vas stood up and turned away from the sight of the dead ship.

“Thank you, Lynx.”

“Sir, considering your dislike for spacewalking, if you would prefer—”

“No, Lynx. You have your orders.”

Vas had always treated robots differently. It didn’t take long for others to abandon the polite social phrases that weren’t required when relaying orders to a machine, but he didn’t. He joked with Lynx. He talked to Lynx. He still said thank you.

They both went down to the main deck where the suit was waiting by the back hatch. Lynx helped him put it on. His sensors watched every move Vas made, checking the process against a procedure list stored somewhere in his memory.

Whenever someone asked why Vas was so polite to Lynx, he’d say it was practice; he was alone too much, and he didn’t want to forget how to be around people.

But that wasn’t it.

Vas glanced at his copilot to confirm he’d done everything right. When he saw Lynx nod, he tapped the side of his helmet to turn on his com. “Lynx?”

The robot’s voice came from the speaker mounted by his ear. “The communication system is operational.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘testing, testing, one-two-three?’”

“I clearly heard your comment, therefore there is no need for me to repeat that banal phrase.”

“You lack the soul of a poet, Lynx.”

“That’s obvious, Captain.”

Still smiling, Adan said, “Will you please get the door for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Vas turned to the airlock. Lynx opened the door and after he passed through, sealed it behind him.

Vas treated Lynx like a person because sometimes you needed to feel like someone was there, watching you. When someone was watching, you didn’t want to show your fear.

“I’m releasing the seal on the hatch now, Captain.”

Stepping out of the ship broke the tentative illusion that the celestial view was only a view. Inside you felt safe. Artificial gravity stood in for gravity, and the allum-glass of the windows could almost be an atmosphere. When you were outside, the emptiness and silence reached into you. Black wasn’t simply the background for a million stars; it was an infinite distance of nothing.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

The captain pushed away from the Colibri, launching himself toward the small cruiser. It drifted around its own mass in a languid rotation. The spin was so slow that you had to watch carefully to notice it. Vas had no trouble grabbing onto the large rail at the side of the airlock. Since the ship had been completely killed, the security on the hatch was gone.

He jerked it open.

Lynx’s voice echoed around his helmet. “There was a change in air pressure. The seals on the ship are intact.”

“Lynx, is the air going to be breathable?”

“Likely, sir, but I encourage you not to remove your helmet.”

“Why?”

“The air should be breathable because one passenger would not have been able to consume the last of the oxygen before freezing to death. It will be cold.”

That seemed like a good reason.

Lynx added, “That is assuming the xeno known as Tennama was telling the truth.”

Vas pulled himself inside the back of the ship. Once the hatch was closed, he reached up and tapped the other side of his helmet to turn on the two lights hooked to the outside of it. The screen on the inside of his helmet sprang to life, giving him various readouts from his equipment. He ignored them.

He floated over to the interior door and forced it open.

The gravity was gone. He knew that. It shouldn’t have seemed strange to see the shadows drifting around the cabin, but it was strange. And eerie.

There was a body next to him. The wrist was caught on something near the floor, so the rest of it hovered, as if on a tether. The boots and legs were illuminated by Vas’s lights.

“Lynx, I want you to confirm you’re receiving my recording.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And you’re backing it up?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Vas nodded despite the fact no one could see the gesture. Then he reached for a bench and pulled himself to the floor.

The face on the body was ghastly. The three holes in the forehead were rimmed with dark red stains, and the expression was contorted. But he recognized the face, despite the disfigurement.

“The pilot,” he muttered.

A large shadow drifted over Vas's shoulder. He panicked. The thrashing of his failed jump connected with the edge of the bench, and it threw him to the other side of the cabin.

“Captain, are you all right?”

Adan had to take a few breaths before he could answer.

“Captain Adan Vas!”

“I’m fine, Lynx.”

“Your vital signs—”

“I was surprised, that’s all.” He resettled himself around the bulkhead and benches that had caught him. “I must have disturbed the air when I came in. Things are moving more.”

“That’s to be expected, Captain.”

“You know, I never would have figured that out, Lynx. You’re brilliant.”

“Sarcasm registered. However, you were the one surprised by the obvious, sir. I thought I should assure you it was normal.”

“And I feel so much better. Now, shut up.”

Vas checked his grip on the mounting bracket, then reached out to grab the corpse in front of him. The hand was closest, but he strained to grab onto the uniform’s sleeve. He pulled the body toward him, turning the thing until he could see the face.

“Captain?”

“That’s Major Anthony Tennama.”

He found the last body when he moved toward the front of the ship. The off-white dress gleamed in contrast to the dull shadows around it. The girl was hanging in the air with her body curled over at the waist, her long hair floating in a cloud around her head. Vas reached out with a gloved hand to push it away.

She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen OE years old.

He let out a pained sigh.

“Have you found the third body, Captain?”

“She was just a kid, Lynx.”

Adan failed to notice the silence that followed his statement. Lynx was still trying to understand the significance of Vas’s observation when the captain spoke again.

“Get on the com. Contact the generals. The assembly needs to know about this as soon as possible.”

“Captain, I recommend that we wait to announce our findings until we can at least confirm the female was a xeno. The more facts we have to affirm what Tennama told us—”

“She’s a xeno, Lynx.”

“Sir, you can’t—”

“Yes, I can! She was freezing to death, right? Xenos don’t like to die.” Vas swept his hand under hers so the camera in his helmet could focus on the straight, bone-white claws that had once been her fingers. “But she had no one to turn into.”

“I’ll send the message out immediately.”

“When you’re done, stand by. I’ll finish up here as soon as I can.” He turned his head toward a nearby console, but the only lights were from what he’d brought with him. “I won’t be able to get any ship records, but maybe I can find a body bag.”