Kali's Children Read online

  Kali’s Children

  by

  Craig Allen

  Artwork by Belinda Pepper of Red Swallow Design

  http://redswallowdesign.com/

  Chapter One

  Cody Brenner remained remarkably calm even as the ship’s hull evaporated.

  “What’s our trajectory?” Commander Wallace shouted for the second time, but as with the first, the klaxons drowned him out. Wallace brushed his hand methodically through the holographic console hovering in front of him, and the alarms stopped. The ship shook as collapsing sections vented air and people into the vacuum of space. Everyone on the bridge yelled into their comm units, demanding information from the rest of the ship about what had just happened. Bedlam took over the bridge as the Spinoza hurled itself into the thin upper atmosphere.

  Commander Wallace raised his voice only slightly, as if a slowly exploding space vessel were only a mild irritation. “Lieutenant, I asked for our trajectory.”

  “Checking, sir.” Another whump punctuated Lieutenant Kelly’s response. It was much louder and more violent than the other decompressions. Cody wondered how many more sections remained between him and an abrupt death. He tried, and failed, to get his breathing under control. He wasn’t used to such things. He was just an interpreter.

  After a few seconds, Kelly spoke. “Sir, our trajectory is… oh, God.”

  “Think you could come up with a better answer than that, Lieutenant?” The second in command, Lieutenant Commander Lighter, managed to keep his voice firm and level. He and Wallace had to appear self-assured and calm, Cody knew, regardless of the nightmare outside the ship. Cody wished he could feel as calm as they looked.

  Lieutenant Kelly spoke at a higher pitch than usual. Not that Cody could blame her. “Sorry sir, it’s just… you better see for yourself.”

  Wallace brushed his hand across his holographic console. A three-dimensional visual appeared in the center of the command desk. Wallace grimaced at the colors dancing before him. He couldn’t quite make out what Wallace was seeing, but the fluctuating colors told Cody it wasn’t good.

  He worked the controls on his own console, and instantly, the projector in his eye lit up the inside of his cornea with the view outside the ship. He wished he hadn’t looked.

  Fire bathed the Spinoza as it entered the atmosphere at a trajectory that was more like falling than reentry. Through the flames of the melting hull, a yellow horizon appeared to rotate as the Spinoza dove through the thin air like a slow-spinning top. Even though Cody couldn’t feel the rotating ship thanks to the artificial gravity, his knees would have given out at the sight if he weren’t already sitting down. He would be dead in minutes. He was sure of it.

  “What the hell happened?” Lighter didn’t direct his question to anyone in particular. He pressed a button on his command desk. “Forester, you copy?”

  No reply.

  “Forester, do you copy?” No response. Lighter swore.

  Cody had no idea why the military insisted on using harsh language, but he’d learned not to comment on it.

  “Dr. Brenner.”

  “Commander?” Cody swiped his shaking hand across his console twice to remove the exterior image from his vision.

  “Comm is down. Make yourself useful. Check all paths between here and every section. Find me a way to talk to people.”

  “Uh, yes, sir.” Cody stared at the confusing myriad of controls before him. “How do I do that?”

  Lighter swept his fingers across the holo-controls in front of him. A brief list of basic communication system commands appeared on Cody’s console. He didn’t know why the military used holographic images instead of their eye projectors. Cody flipped through the menu items methodically as he listened to the bridge chatter behind him.

  “I need to know what hit us.” Commander Wallace managed to sound both urgent and calm all at once.

  “I don’t know, sir.” Kelly scanned through text and images on the holographic display on her console. “Maybe we hit something. There’s debris everywhere.”

  “Yeah, our debris,” Lighter said. “That didn’t feel like a collision. It felt like we just got chewed up by grasers.”

  “I can’t confirm weapons fire just yet, sir.” Kelly ran her fingers over holographic controls. “I have logs from just prior to the incident. I can—”

  “Belay that,” Wallace said. “How bad off are we?”

  Lieutenant Kelly took a second to run though systems. “Bad, sir. I’ve got red lights all over the board. We’ve got breaches everywhere. All fusion plants are down. Every system is short-circuiting, frying itself.”

  “Gravity?”

  “Just on the bridge, sir,” she said, “but that’s because it’s self-contained. Inertial plates are negative on the rest of the ship.”

  Cody swallowed hard. Without the inertial plates to cushion sudden changes in velocity, the crew would feel the full effects of the sudden stop when the Spinoza impacted the planet. Bones would turn to powder, and organs would liquefy. The only good news was that people would die so quickly that they wouldn’t know it.

  Wallace manipulated the controls at the command desk and brought up a three-dimensional image of the Spinoza. Red dots lit every part of the image. Whatever had hit them had breached a reactor on Spinoza’s port side. A small amount of the hydrogen had fused into helium before ejection systems could expel it completely. If all the hydrogen had nuked, the ship would have vaporized, but what little hydrogen had fused pretty much put an end to every major system on the ship, including life support.

  Lighter frowned. “They screwed us up real good. Took out main impellers, inertial plates, grasers—but they didn’t finish us off.”

  “Maybe they figured we were goners, sir,” Kelly said.

  Wallace shook his head. “Spicans would have made sure. Pirates wouldn’t be so goddamn bold.”

  “Please tell me we have orientation impellers,” Lighter said.

  Kelly checked her board. “Starboard and anterior station-keeping impellers are online, sir.”

  “Very good,” Wallace said. “Orient us to… orbit one one seven, seventeen down angle.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Lighter looked over at Wallace. “We’re going in ass first?”

  “Have to,” Wallace said. “It’s the least damaged area.”

  Cody finished scanning the brief instructions on the comm channels then pulled up the schematic. The controls reacted to his eye and hand movements, adapting to his behaviors and perceptions. He found break after break in the comm system. Nothing worked.

  “Doctor, have you made contact with the engine room?”

  Cody turned to face Lieutenant Commander Lighter. An image of the Spinoza’s exterior hovered over the command desk, replacing the schematic. Both Wallace and Lighter stared passively at the image. The external optical reader pointed toward the planet, showing the ship as it fell from the sky. The flames had died down somewhat, and their trajectory appeared to have stabilized. Sparks and debris flitted by—the only real evidence that they were falling rapidly toward the uncharted world below them.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” Cody said. “I can’t find anything that works. There’s nothing—”

  “Status, Lieutenant?” Wallace ordered.

  “I have us oriented for reentry, Commander,” Lieutenant Kelly said. “I have us stabilized, more or less, but without port impellers, it’s just a matter of time before we hit a flat spin again.”

  Cody stared at the holo-image on the command desk. The ground was becoming more distinct. Back home, just before an orbital drop, he had loved to stare at the deep blue of the ocean and the white puffs of clouds. The sight beneath him was nothing like that.

  The ground was mostly brown and dark, with splotches of red. Thick yellow clouds hid parts of the planet’s surface. The clouds seemed drawn toward a large spiral mass in what he assumed was the southern hemisphere, based on the ship’s original trajectory. It was a storm to shame all hurricanes on Earth. If they crashed near it, they would have serious problems, but wherever they landed, be it water or solid ground, it would hurt. He was being generous using the word “landing.” “Impact” was the proper term. When Cody had made orbital drops from Earth’s ring, he’d at least had a parachute.

  “How long?” Wallace asked. “And where?”

  Kelly’s fingers flashed across her controls. A display appeared on top of the image, showing their trajectory, their rate of descent, and the location of their eventual landing. “A little less than three minutes, sir.” She wiped her sweaty hands on her uniform. “I’ve got anterior impellers on full. That’ll help cushion us some. I’ve maneuvered us as best as I can, sir, but we’ll be in the water.”

  “Not what I hoped for.” Wallace nodded at Cody. “Doctor, have you found a way to talk to anyone?”

  “No, I can’t. Everything’s short-circuited. Nothing works.” Cody caught his breath. “My God, if people can’t get to their impact tubes—”

  “Standard operating procedure is to hit the tubes and flood them,” Lighter said. “Let’s hope your people remember that.”

  Like every chair on the bridge, Cody’s doubled as a crash couch, a “coffin” as the crew called them. He would be safe, but everyone else on the ship would have to find a crash tube on their own.

  Cody thought of the other civilians. A few had been in space before. They would probably be able to save themselves and maybe help those who couldn’t. He thought of the two youngest of the civilians. They had been in every
part of the ship, screwing each other silly. They had been busy groping each other instead of listening to operational procedures provided by the petty officer. If they had a clue where the nearest impact tubes were, it would be a miracle. The civilian crew was composed entirely of xenobiologists and planetologists—just the kinds of people who would be interested in the brand-new world below. They were experts in their field, but most lacked space travel experience. Cody himself hadn’t been in space in years.

  This is our trial by fire, Cody thought, recalling the flames that had reduced the outer edges of the ship to debris, which had no doubt already burned away in the upper atmosphere. A rapidly diminishing number appeared on the holo-image. Five thousand meters more, and they would stop very suddenly.

  The horizon began to drift askew as the white haze of clouds grew closer. “Goddamn it,” Lieutenant Kelly said. “We’re drifting, sir, just as I thought we would. I can’t adjust it in time.” A red light lit up. “Bridge gravity failing.”

  Lighter looked back at the crash couches behind him. “Never liked those things.”

  “It’s either that, or curl up on the floor and cry.” Wallace addressed the entire bridge. “Get in your couches.” He stepped away from the command desk and toward the chair less than a meter away. A canopy enveloped the commander and his couch.

  A handle rested on the side of every crash couch. With one twist, the person would be protected from massive g-forces—theoretically, that is. Being encased in fluid protected the occupant during a crash, but only if the crash couch itself survived the impact.

  Almost in unison, every crash couch on the bridge flooded. The semi-transparent plasti-carbon bubbles cocooned each occupant and filled with the bluish breathing fluid. The hologram over the command desk showed the ship hurtling through clouds. The ground came into full view. In seconds, it would be over.

  “Doctor!” Lighter’s shout echoed across the bridge. “Pull it! Now!”

  Cody twisted the handle hard. The effect was instantaneous. The canopy unfolded and slammed shut around him, turning his chair into an impact tube just like all the others on the bridge. Fluid filled the compartment in less than a second, enveloping every inch of him. His ears popped, and then the microscopic nanos in his body helped stabilize the pressure.

  Cody panicked. I’m in water! He clawed at the canopy before remembering that the fluid oxygenated his lungs. Cody tried to override his natural instinct to hold his breath, but he didn’t get the chance. The tube jolted, sending him bouncing around inside. He cried out, releasing his breath in a single burst. Breathing fluid filled his lungs immediately. The canopy flexed and bent to the breaking point.

  His impact tube jerked free. Through the fluid, the command desk, the still-active holo-image passed across his view. An endless blue filled the display. A second later, the tube crashed into the other side of the bridge. His head bounced off the canopy, making his vision swirl. The intense pain lasted for a split second before he lost consciousness.

  Chapter Two

  Cody tried to ignore the throbbing of his head. He wanted to sleep, but pain persisted. He forced his eyes open and took a breath, only to find he had no air. The fluid in his lungs made him panic once more, but he recovered. Everything came back to him—the descent, the fire highlighting the Spinoza, the ground approaching very quickly, and the crash fluid that filled his coffin. It irritated him, making him claustrophobic, but being irritated was better than being dead.

  Cody ran his finger along the control pad that had appeared when the canopy closed. Nothing happened. The holo-controls didn’t even materialize. He swiped at it a few more times before resigning himself to the fact he was at the mercy of survivors to release him—if there were any survivors.

  Cody ran his hand along his throbbing forehead where it had slammed into the canopy. Nothing. The tube’s microscopic nano-machines must have repaired whatever wound he suffered. If only the tiny nanos would take care of the banging in his head, too.

  Cody focused on the rhythm of the throbbing, which wasn’t in his head. Cody reached for the smooth sides of the tube and pushed himself toward the canopy. Outside the tube, a light source flickered. Something moved and then blocked the light. Cody pressed his face against the clear nano-fibers. The blurry shape of Lieutenant Kelly stood over the tank. He couldn’t make out what she was saying, so he shook his head. She showed him something cylindrical with a grip large enough for her to hold in one hand. She aimed the coil pistol at the edge of the canopy.

  Cody flailed his arms as she pointed the weapon near the side of the tube. He reached for a handhold to pull himself away. The smooth edge of the tube didn’t offer much grip.

  The coil pistol fractured the canopy. Thin cracks spread across it, then the fluid burst through. Pieces of the shattered canopy swam all around Cody as he sloshed out of the tube. The liquid spilled onto the deck, carrying away shards of plasti-carbon from the canopy.

  “Keep your eyes shut, Doctor.” Lieutenant Kelly put her hand on Cody’s shoulder as he lay on the crash couch, which seemed tilted to the side. “You don’t want that plastic shit in your eyes.”

  Obediently, Cody squeezed his eyes shut. After a loud thunk, power flowed through the crash tube.

  “Just a few more minutes, Doc.” She patted his shoulder. “Had to connect the couch to an alternate power source.”

  A whirring sound came from above Cody, followed by dozens of millimeter-thick tentacles that ran over his body and face, removing the debris. They reached gently into the corners of his eyes and into his nostrils. Occasionally, a feeler hit something sensitive. Cody tried to keep himself from pulling away, to allow the feelers to do their work. The feelers detected his reaction anyway and altered their search patterns. After several moments, they stopped.

  “It’s good now,” Kelly said. “You can open your eyes.”

  Cody’s eyes fluttered open. The meager light blinded him for a moment.

  Lieutenant Kelly was leaning over him. Shadows from flickering emergency lights danced across her face. She smirked. “What’s up, Doc?” She’d told him about the reference before, but he’d forgotten.

  Cody sat up. His clothes dried instantly as water rolled off the nano-fibers. He leaned against the side of the tube and surveyed the bridge while Lieutenant Kelly examined him, checking for any wounds the crash tube nanos hadn’t already fixed. His tube had come loose in the crash and sailed across the bridge—or what was left of it. Only a handful of emergency lights worked. Parts of the ceiling had collapsed, destroying workstations, holo-image emitters, and backup manual systems. One narrow sliver of the plasti-steel from the inner hull had pierced the middle of a tube. Fluid, some of it red, had leaked from the crash tube. Debris had crushed other couches completely.

  There was far more water on the floor than could be held in all of the tubes. The artificial gravity plates sandwiched between bulkheads were visible. Cody had no idea how extensive the damage was, but given that sections had collapsed in the initial attack and that he was standing in water, parts of the ship had been exposed to the alien ocean in which the ship was submerged. Emergency systems, operating under their own isolated power systems, had sealed the gaps in the hull, but not before letting in some of the seawater. The crew was lucky the entire bridge hadn’t flooded.

  The hull groaned and shuddered. It popped occasionally under the tremendous pressure from outside, as if someone on the other side were pushing against it with unimaginable force… someone who wanted in badly.

  “I take it that’s not normal,” Cody said.

  “Sure it is.” Commander Wallace stepped over a broken control panel. “For being underwater. How far under, you figure, Lieutenant?”

  Kelly answered while still checking Cody. “Hard to say, sir. Got to be several atmospheres of pressure out there if it’s attacking the hull integrity like that.” The hull groaned in response. “May not be too far, though. At one-point-two Earth standard gravity, the water pressure gets higher at shorter depths.” She nodded at Cody. “You gonna be all right, Doc?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine, Lieu—Rachel, isn’t it?”

  She smiled. Cody couldn’t tell if she was amused or honored that he remembered her first name. “Yeah, Rachel.”