Markus placed the pale-blue egg back into the incubator with its siblings. He liked the splotches of black that covered the egg, almost as if someone had splashed paint on it. The egg was a Jacarion, the most intelligent of the Darian species. Jacarion researchers had developed most of the technology used on the Morning Star, to include liquid metal, the sun shield, and the fusion-wave engines. He stroked each of the eggs gently. “So, which one of you are going to grow up and figure out how to get this broken ship all the way to our new world?” Maera reached into the incubator and brushed her hand across Markus’ hand. “You’re going to make a good father someday, we’ll have a bunch of these.” “I hope not,” replied Markus. Maera pulled her hand back. “What?” “I would probably be upset if we have a bunch of Jacarion eggs.” Maera rolled her eyes and grinned. “And they say Holentites are dull-witted.” “Not to our faces they don’t… hold on, I’m getting a secure transmission.” Markus tapped a button on his radio to accept the incoming transmission; it was Laena, and she was upset. “Laena? You’re on the Bridge? I’m in the nursery, what’s wrong?” Maera leaned in to hear the transmission. “That’s a fear warble, something scared her.” Markus glanced at Maera. “Isn’t she a bit young to be able to make that sound?” “She has two little ones to care for, her maternal instincts kicked in. We need to find out what happened.” “Laena, hold on, we’re coming!” said Markus into the radio, then changed frequencies. “Aeyah, get the pod ready, we’re moving out.” Markus looked up at Falor playing with an egg. “Stop tormenting that egg and put it back, we have to go. Do you have any weapons?” Falor was making falcon screeching sounds while zooming an egg around in the air. “I’ve got two stun pistols hidden in the pod.” “Can you get hold of something bigger?” asked Markus. Falor swooshed the egg he was playing with into the incubator for a landing. “I could, how big do you want?” “Woah there, Sport, cool your jets on that thought,” interrupted Chief Gillian. The retired engineering chief was sitting in one of the big fluffy chairs used by mothers to sit with their eggs; they thought he had fallen asleep. “We don’t need someone getting excited and blasting more holes in the hull.” “What if we run into trouble on the Bridge?” asked Markus. “Solve it without crippling the ship even more than it is,” replied Chief. “Chief, we’re in over our heads,” said Markus. Falor shut the lid to the incubator containing the egg he’d been playing with. “Forget him, he doesn’t give a damn what happens to us. Let’s go.” Gillian remained silent until Falor had stomped past and was nearly at the airlock. “While you’re over there, bring my armor, it’s hanging on the wall next to the door.” Falor spun around, his wings flexing in anger. “I’m not your go-fetch boy.” Gillian chuckled and got up from the chair in one fluid motion; the man was unusually spry for being 112 years old. “Does the quarterback catch his own pass?” asked Gillian “What? How would I know? I don’t follow zero-g ball,” replied Falor. Gillian’s eyes flicked to Markus. “What’s the purpose of the wing-guard?” Markus looked confused, not sure where this was going? “He catches, blocks, or throws a pass sometimes.” “When does the wing-guard fly next to you?” asked Chief. “At the start of the play, but as soon as the ball snaps he has to figure out what the other team is doing and make sure the play I called happens.” “Ah, so the wing-guard is quick witted, independent, and thrives on the fast play?” asked Gillian. “Yes, I suppose,” said Markus. Gillian walked past Markus and waved a hand at Falor. “Then why is your wing-guard hovering over you like a nursemaid when he should be running the play?” Markus glanced to Maera, then at Falor. The corner of Falor’s mouth turned up in a half-grin, he’d been telling Markus the very same thing but in different words for three days. Gillian lifted his armor down from the recharging station it was hanging and slipped the breast plate over his head. “You want my help, fine, your X.O. needs to go find his own pod, and the three of you should never be in the same pod again.” Gillian pressed the controls on his armor. Liquid metal flowed out from the breast plate to cover his arms, legs, wings, and up over his head to form the fiercest looking Raven-head armor any of them had ever seen. Falor’s eye’s widened when he saw the scar that ran diagonally across the helmet. “Holy ancestors, I know you! You’re Gillian Raven Scar! I saw you in a parade once. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you without your armor on… umm… I didn’t even realize you were a Rositite, your feathers are all grey.” Gillian grunted in annoyance at the impertinent youth. “See if your wings don’t go gray when you’re 112 years old.” “I heard about you,” added Maera. “Something about you got burned real bad, but somehow you stayed conscious long enough to save the Morning Star!” “It was a reactor breach, and I spent six months in a regeneration chamber being treated for those burns, but that was a very long time ago,” replied Gillian, then turned to Markus. “Son, you need to send your X.O. to find the Alarian before anyone else does. Whoever has the Alarian will have control of the Morning Star.” Markus nodded, relieved to finally have someone tell him what needed to happen. “Okay, Maera and I can handle whatever’s happening on the Bridge.” Gillian ruffled his feathers in irritation. “Boy, what did I just say? You three are never to be in the same pod together, unless you want to make it easy for your enemies. Promote the young lady to Chief of the Boat and leave her here to organize a team to take care of these eggs.” “What? Because I’m a girl?” asked Maera indignantly. “No, because the eggs inside this room are the most in need of the COB’s attention right now,” said Gillian. “Once you get a Care Team in place, grab a pod and head to the engine room. There’s a docking bay with an emergency refueling station just forward of the engines, get some of your best pilots to help clear a path through the debris, then start refueling pods.” “We have fuel? asked Maera. “The fuel in the tanks back there is intended for the colonists when they arrive at the planet, but there won’t be any colonists if this generation dies,” replied Gillian. “What about me?” asked Markus. Gillian’s eyes flicked back to Markus. “You and I are going to the Bridge, and you’re going to stay there. So long as you hold the Bridge, and the Alarian, you’ll have a reasonable claim on the Captaincy.” “What changed your mind about helping us?” asked Markus. “Never you mind,” said Gillian. “Alright, you have your assignments, get to work.” **** Falor dropped down into the airlock to the maintenance tunnel. He would come back up to the main ring once he was past the hull breech; the air in the tunnel was still toxic and he didn’t want to spend any longer there than necessary. He stopped once he was in the maintenance tunnel and tapped against his breast plate. The metal flowed back to reveal the plasma pistol he had hidden in the secret compartment that Maera had built into the armor for him. Markus didn’t know he was carrying such a powerful weapon, and didn’t need to know, but he certainly wasn’t going to walk around unarmed. He flipped the activation lever on the pistol and listened to the pleasant charging of the weapon. It took less than a second for the weapon to be ready, and then held it out in front of him at a ready position. He hadn’t felt the need to retrieve the weapon before, nobody was going to chance taking on a Holentite and a Hetenitte together, but they might a lone Hetenitte. The gun felt good in his hand, he felt complete again. A plasma rifle would be better, being that the pistol was such a short-range weapon, but it would suffice. The plasma pistol couldn’t penetrate armor, but it would create a 3000 degree hotspot on the armor that would take the fight out of anyone as it burned the flesh behind the armor. Falor crossed the section of the maintenance tunnel with the hull breech above. He kept his helmet light off, he didn’t really need it; his eyes were thirty times better than any other Darian. But, that didn’t mean he could let his guard down, the Rositites had poor eyesight in bright light, but here in the dark, their eyes could see as clear as anyone else could see in the daylight. The airlock up to the main ring was just ahead, but something felt wrong. His skin tingled and his breath quickened, there was someone here. He focused his eyes until he could see the dust swirling in the air. Yes, someone had quickly moved out of the middle of the corridor and took shelter… he followed the swirling dust with his eyes to a support column. He lifted his pistol and aimed. “You might as well come out, I know where you are,” said Falor. The sound of a needle gun being cocked not more than two feet from Falor’s head rang through the silence like a bell. Falor froze and slowly turned his head toward the sound. “You’re so predictable,” said a voice to Falor’s left. “An ionizer wand can make the dust in the air go where I want it to go. Really, how do you even survive from day to day?” Falor spun around with a surge of Hetenitte speed that defied even a needle gun’s projectile. The needle from the gun passed Falor’s head by less than an inch and embedded itself into the hull. Falor swept his wings around the assailant and pulled him into a vice-grip like hold. He pressed the plasma pistol against the side of a Jacarion Jackdaw helmet. ““Where have you been, Taerek?” whispered Falor. Falor unwrapped his wing from around the teenager and pushed him away. The boy stumbled and nearly fell before catching himself. “Hey, you don’t have to be so rough, I was only fooling around.” “I asked you a question, if you make me ask you again, I’ll take that needle gun and put it somewhere unpleasant.” “Okay, okay, you’ve been glued to that Holentite and I didn’t know if you still wanted to keep our alliance secret.” Falor narrowed his eyes and brushed at something greasy on his wing. “We don’t have an alliance, you work for me until your debt is paid, and what the blazes is all over your armor?” Taerek produced a tube of something and held it up. “It’s just sodium hydroxide cream. Some people use it as a beauty product to balance the natural ph in their skin, but it also acts as a neutralizing agent against the toxic chemicals in the air down here. You know, you don’t have to be so grumpy, I didn’t mean to shoot at you. You did that spinny thing and startled me, it was an accident.” Falor gave up trying to wipe the goop off his wing. “You’ll be a dead man in the morgue if you ever let an accident like that happen again. Did you get us a pod?” Taerek shoved the tube of goop back into a sack tied around his waist. “Sure did, a Cori pod, nobody will even notice us.” “Armament?” “It took me all day, but I’ve got two interceptor missiles and a thousand armor-piercing rounds loaded.” Falor leaned to the side to avoid being in the direct line of fire from Taerek’s needle rifle as the boy waved the weapon around absently while he talked. “Hand weapons?” asked Falor. “Couple of plasma rifles, some needle guns, an XR2 with fifty smart rounds, a shoulder fired heat-seeker, and some stun sticks… oh, and five sentinels.” Falor raised a brow. “Sentinels? Now those will come in handy. Did you get any electronics?” Taerek nodded and continued waving the rifle around. “Yeah, but I haven’t installed anything yet. I was busy trying to figure out how to load the missiles without blowing myself up. Soooo… what are we doing?” Falor stepped forward in one swift movement and snatched the rifle from Taerek. “Give me that before you shoot yourself. We’re going to find the Alarian.” “I heard a rumor that Taslaen headed to the engine room,” replied Taerek sulkily. “Taslaen is too smart to let a rumor get out he didn’t intend, which means he headed the opposite direction. He’s at the sun shield.” Taerek’s head tipped to one side. “Oh wow, I’ve always wanted to see what’s inside the sun shield, but even I couldn’t break the encryption on those locks. You know, nobody has been inside the sun shield since the Morning Star launched. Nobody even remembers what’s in there, except for the big generator that powers the ship.” “I’d bet the Alarian knows how to get inside, and that’s why Taslaen kidnapped him,” said Falor. “Okay, where’s our pod?” Taerek turned and bounced away into the darkness. “This way, I had a terrible time finding a parking spot. Hey, if you rip Taslaen’s wings off, can I have them? I need a set of real wings to experiment on. I’ve got an idea for a working set of prosthetic wings that could actually fly.” “Why in the name of the ancestors would anyone want prosthetic wings?” asked Falor. “They’ve been increasing the rotational gravity of the rings for the last 400 years. Do you know why?” “I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” said Falor. “It’s because the planet we’re going to has a heavier gravity than the one we’re from. We’re not going to be able to fly when we get there, so if I invent a working set of glider wings that could fit over your wing-blades, my descendants would be wealthy and I’ll be remembered as the father of the Great House of Jacarion.” “Interesting, but a bit narcissistic.” “Hey… umm… if you’re just going to kill Taslaen anyway, do you think I could have all of him. There’s a few other experiments I want to try, but I need a live body. I have an idea for a new type of dagger. I’m going to call it the Talon Dagger, but I need someone to test it on. Oh, and I have another experiment I want to do where I flash-freeze individual body parts so I can make a better slow-sleep procedure. But don’t worry, I won’t waste. I can probably use him for years before he dies.” Falor watched the shadowy figure ahead of him. And they wonder why people call the Jacarions the mad scientists, thought Falor to himself. Taerek was as close to a sociopath as one could get. *** Maera flopped down in one of the big fluffy chairs and glared at the two airlocks the boys had disappeared through. Falor had taken the maintenance tunnel to get past the hull breech and find a new pod, and Markus had taken the upper airlock to meet Aeyah at the hull breech and load into his pod there. Though, she doubted Falor was actually going to get a new pod. He probably already had that psycho Jacarion boy lurking in the dark somewhere waiting for his master. Falor wouldn’t even have Taerek if it wasn’t for her. She’d discovered that Taerek was the one that turned Mathaen’s little brother pink with some kind of dye he’d put inside the boy’s armor; the dye lasted for months despite endless attempts to remove it. The kid probably deserved it, Holentites were known for being bullies, and Jacarions were known for being their targets. He’d probably done something to Taerek and incurred the wrath of Taerek’s twisted mind. But, it could have been worse, people disappeared every once in a while, and the most likely cause was they were now in some Jacarions lab being experimented on; the Jacarions were psychopaths when it came to the pursuit of science. It had only taken a few whispered words to Taerek, and she owned him for life. She told him that four people knew what he’d done, and if anything happened to her or Falor, Mathaen would find out. She’d then made him suffer the indignity of standing in Falor’s room with a bow on his head and a little tag that read: Happy Hatching Day, big brother. The boys’ relationship ended up becoming a weird lopsided friendship, though Falor would never admit it. But, Taerek liked working for Falor, it gave him status, ended the Holentites bullying of him, and funded his ridiculous experiments. And in return, much of Falor’s rise to power was because of Taerek’s incredible and devious brain. The egg in the incubator next to her wiggled, setting off a chiming alarm. She stood and looked down at the egg. The alarm continued to chime its insistent and annoying sound, but she had no idea how to silence the alarm, or what it meant. Most girls, and more than a few boys, spend time volunteering in the nursery around the age of 11 or 12, but not her. She had little interest in eggs; most Rositite girls didn't. Sure, she would do her duty to the Morning Star and provide eggs when it was time, but she didn’t want to take care of them. Maera closed her eyes and pictured the survivor list in her head. Yes, there it was, Pod 543, just the right person for the job. She punched in the frequency for Pod 543 and waited; the wait took longer than she expected and was starting to think nobody would answer. “Who is this?” asked a voice. “This is Maera, Chief of the Boat.” “What? Is this a joke?” “No, Markus made me Chief of the Boat.” “Did he drink lead paint? Nobody in their right mind would make you Chief of the Boat.” Maera took a deep breath and pushed her temper down. “I need some…” “Do I hear an incubator alarm?” interrupted the voice. “Are you in the nursery? I swear if you hurt any of those eggs I’ll hunt you down, I don’t care who your daddy was!” Maera took another breath, if it was anyone else, she’d be the one doing the hunting. “Saline, would you shut up and listen. Yes, I’m in the nursery, and there is an alarm, but I don’t know what to do.” There was a short pause before Saline replied. “Press the second button from the right on the control panel.” Maera did, and the alarm stopped. “Now what?” “Press the third button from the left, then tap on ‘prepare for hatching’.” Maera followed Saline’s instructions. “Okay, some lights came on.” “Those are warming lamps, the hatchling will be cold when it comes out of its egg, and those lamps will keep it warm. Now don’t do anything else, I’m coming.” “That’s why I called you,” said Maera. “Markus wants me to put together a Care Team, and I want you to be in charge of it. You can bring anyone you need, I don’t care. I just don’t want to ever have to come in here again, it smells funny.” “How do I get into the nursery, there’s a hull breech on both sides?” “Dock on the side where the Senior Quarters were, I’ll meet you there and show you how to get in.” “This better not be a trick,” replied Saline. Twenty minutes later Maera was waiting in the main ring as five pods arrived. Saline was the first out with her wings spread in a protective stance. The girl was a Holentite, and the size of a mountain; the eggs would be well protected with her standing watch over them. Maera counted a total of twenty girls and four boys crawl out of their pods–two of the boys were Rositites. Saline saw Maera’s eyes fall on the two Rositite boys. “They’re good scavengers,” explained Saline. “They’ll be able to find supplies and repair parts we need.” Whatever Saline thought the reason Maera was looking at the Rositite boys, she would be wrong. Maera didn’t care if they had brought the two boys to sing, dance, and tell stories at evening meals, she was only committing their faces to memory so she could blackmail them later over something trivial and make them her source of information within the nursery. Specifically, she’d want to know the identity of the next Alarian born. She would never let Markus be at such a disadvantage again as not to know who and where all the Alarians were. Maera shrugged. “Follow me.” There was some minor drama convincing them to descend into the darkness of the maintenance tunnel, but she eventually got them all cycled through the airlock and into the nursery. She stood next to the airlock and watched as Saline gave orders to her team. They spread out, checking every incubator; four of them surrounding the egg that was about to hatch. There was nothing further to do here, and she had no interest in another conversation with Saline. Maera slipped back into the airlock and down to the maintenance tunnel. All she needed now was a pod, but she had no intention of taking one of the unlaunched pods. Just as Falor had his own resources, so did she. Maera changed frequencies on her radio. “Tanneth, are you there?” “I’m here, Princess,” replied the silky smooth voice of her silent partner in crime. Maera stopped, crouched, and drew the hidden plasma pistol from her breast plate. “Don’t make me kill you,” said Maera, giving him the correct emergency response. Tanneth was compromised, calling her Princess was their code word for ambush. Tanneth chuckled. “I’m at docking tube 283, hurry up, I missed you.” “I’m coming, give me twenty minutes to get there,” said Maera. She scanned ahead with her eyes, hoping to find the ambush before it found her. She could turn around and go back to the nursery, but that might drag trouble into the last place trouble needed to go. And calling Falor was out of the question, whoever was holding Tanneth would be watching for Falor to return and know she’d been alerted to the ambush. She considered her options, and they were few. She’d need to do something nobody would expect, but what?