Stranded on a Storm Moon Read online

  Casting another long look to the sky, all she could see was sand being blasted around and wondered whether Wraith was even still looking for them.

  Constant worry was only going to get her killed, and Arowana had long ago found focusing her mind was the only way to get through the day. As such, she had stopped giving much thought to her relationship with Hawthorn. This was either the perfect opportunity for them to bond or to rip out each other’s throats, but all Arowana could see was that it was a repeat of what had brought them together in the first place. Once again they had been thrown into a life-or-death situation. That was no place to be making important decisions about the future.

  Opening a pouch on her belt, she removed the notepad and pen Hawthorn had found beneath the floorboards. Flicking through the pages, she found them all empty and clicked on the pen. It took a while to get it to work. She touched it to her tongue, breathed hot air on it, ran it in circles on the page; and finally the blue ink appeared.

  She sat in the dugout for fifteen minutes or so, hoping the storm might calm down a bit while she waited. The notepad enabled her to get her thoughts in order, although she had no intention of penning a diary. If their bodies were going to be discovered, she did not want Securitarn getting her brain.

  Securitarn formed the basis of her work in the notepad. The reason she and Hawthorn were on the run was because, one night, Securitarn had kidnapped her and hardwired a database into her brain. She was the only test subject who survived and was now on the run from them. Securitarn thought she too was dead, but she knew they would one day realise their mistake. Then they would come for her, which meant she had to be ready for them.

  A few months earlier, Arowana and Hawthorn had been on Ganymede, the moon of Securitarn’s official headquarters. While they were there, Arowana had managed to get hold of some information and had yet to sort through it all. Somewhere in that information there would lurk Securitarn’s dirty little secrets and if Arowana could find them, she would have some leverage to use against them.

  Anything to keep her mind off Gordon Hawthorn.

  Arowana worked methodically, but anyone watching her would have been confused. The database and her brain were linked, so it was difficult to think of something and not access the database. It played havoc with her memories, for knowledge was always acquired through experience, even if that experience was simply learning it. The database offered her instant access to knowledge regarding anything Securitarn had put in their system and Arowana found herself knowing facts about things she did not understand. She could master any fighting technique in an instant, could knit a woolly jumper or perform complex medical surgery. She would forget everything just as soon as she no longer needed it, and the concept frightened her.

  Presently, she was accessing whatever parts of the database she had taken from Ganymede, and was writing down whatever interesting things she could glean from them. Whether they were words, numbers or complex equations, she was jotting down anything she happened upon.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the woman from whom Arowana had taken the information. An entire floor of her office building had been devoted to a jungle facsimile and within that she had kept a cyborg lion. How much of the creature had at one time been a lion, Arowana still did not know, but the thing was gone so it hardly mattered. The reason Arowana thought about it was because it had been no different to her. She had been born human, but the implanted database made her a machine. Ever since meeting Hawthorn, she had been struggling with the issue of whether she was even a woman any more. Hawthorn was an engineer, he loved machines, and she feared this was what he loved about her.

  Thinking about Hawthorn disrupted her thought processes and she swore, loudly. Whatever she had been working through was gone now, and she could not afford to work her way back to it. She could do so at the next dugout, at which point she promised herself she would not think of Hawthorn at all.

  Looking upwards, she could see the storm had not receded any – if anything, it had grown worse. She could not understand Valetudo. It was a world where terraforming had not quite worked, yet there were still animals and plants able to survive. Clearly the process had some merit, for life on Valetudo had evolved to live off the mildly acidic rain.

  Evolved. That made her laugh, for life could not evolve so quickly. When Earth pioneers had moved out from the mother planet, they had settled each of the planetary systems, but all that had not occurred millions of years ago, so there was no way anything could have evolved on other worlds. Adapted, certainly, but not evolved.

  Perhaps that was what she was, she reflected. The overnight evolution of the human race.

  Something flew over the dugout and she recognised the marker she had just set up. The storm had become so bad it was tearing down all her work. If she did not get the marker back up, they would miss any signals from passing craft and would never be rescued.

  Shoving the notepad back into her pouch, she struggled out of the dugout, but reason had fled her just as easily as the marker in the wind. It did not occur to her that if the intensity of the storm had increased, it was probably not the best of ideas to leave the relative safety of the grave.

  Arowana took two steps into the storm before the winds laughed at her like a thousand hyenas. She threw her arms before her and dug in her feet, but the storm did not care for her paltry efforts. It was annoyed that she had the audacity to stick metal rods into the ground and intended to have some fun with her.

  With a shriek she could not hear, Arowana was torn from the ground and shot through the air. Up and down became pointless concepts and Arowana huddled herself into a ball. Battered by flying sand and sliced at by churned-up rocks, her only hope for survival was to weather out the madness and hope she was hurled somewhere soft.

  As the possible next step in human evolution, she was certainly heading the way of the Neanderthals.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hart had eaten the food she had been given, although as always she had done so in the dark. Hawthorn did not mind so much, just as long as she was eating it. When she was ready, she would rejoin them, but then he had been saying that ever since he had rescued her from the pirates months earlier. He had been making some real progress with her, and then they had to go and end up stranded on Valetudo.

  Having washed up, Hawthorn took his bulky metal box into the walk-in cupboard so he could sit with Hart, as he had done every day for months. The box was crude, there were wires sticking out all over the place, and he had received more than one electric shock from it. Between the two of them, they had managed to construct the thing from loose pieces of metal lying around, mainly wreckage from their spacecraft. While Hawthorn was a mechanic, Hart was quite simply a genius. The box was like an old-style radio, with a red dial which moved back and forth, picking up various frequencies as he tuned in through them all. Hawthorn would sit in the dark cupboard with Hart for hours on end, fiddling with his knob while Arowana was outside working. That was precisely how he had phrased it to both women on more than one occasion, but they must have been more mature than him because they just ignored him.

  “Why should you never get into a race with a Saturnian?” Hawthorn asked while he sat there. “Because they’ll run rings around you. Geddit?”

  Hart got it, she just didn’t laugh. Hawthorn knew there was little chance of her saying anything. She seldom spoke, and whenever she did, he was never convinced she knew where she was. But he liked to sit with her while he played with the radio. Arowana was outside making sure all the markers were working, while Hawthorn was inside tuning into any signals they might be receiving. It was boring work, but he was not talking to Hart for his own benefit. If he didn’t talk to her regularly, he knew they would lose her.

  “I have another,” he said. “I’ll tell you the punch-line and you think of a joke for it. Uranus. Go on, hit me with your best joke.”

  “You’re being racist.”

  “The first thing you’ve said in two days and it’s
that I’m being racist.”

  “Well, you are.”

  Hart was still sitting with her knees brought to her chin, but her eyes were more aware today. She had days like this, and Hawthorn saw it as evidence that she could eventually come back to them.

  Hawthorn twiddled with his dial while he tried to think of something else to say. “Sorry for dragging you out here,” he finally went with.

  “You’ve apologised before.”

  “And I’ll probably apologise every day. Wraith and his jokes, eh? That old Carpoan humour never fails to amaze.”

  “I’m not sure he meant it as a joke. I think he was just fed up of your up-and-down relationship with Iris.”

  “I think I was fed up with my up-and-down relationship with Iris. He had good intentions, or at least I think he did. Actually, no, he didn’t. Wraith doesn’t like romantic stuff, he avoids relationships. You know how he is. Cranky old man who’s not old because he’s only in his forties. He tricked us, said he needed us out of the sword-ship for a while. Said Iris and I needed to take out one of our craft and survey some damage on the outside of the vessel. That’s the only reason we went out there, Beth. Just to take a look. We didn’t know Wraith had rigged the controls of the craft to take us away from the sword-ship, didn’t know until he opened up a channel to us and told us he’d pre-programmed a course for us. He wanted us to go on a make-or-break weekend somewhere nice, somewhere far away from him. He wanted us to sort out all our issues alone in that craft and come pick us up later. Only … well, he can’t pilot for toffee and he certainly can’t programme an autopilot so we ended up crashing here on Valetudo. We were lucky to have survived.”

  “I know,” Hart said. “I was there.”

  “And I swear I didn’t know you were asleep in the rear compartment. I mean, I know you sometimes take to wandering the corridors of the sword-ship when the rest of us are asleep, and I know you built the craft for us and like to tinker with it, but I never imagined you’d go fix it in the night and then sleep in the rear compartment.”

  “I do that sometimes. It beats always sleeping in my forge.”

  “And Wraith didn’t know, either. I wonder if he’s realised you’re gone.”

  “It’s been three months.”

  “Yeah, he must have realised.”

  “I meant he’s not coming for us. Even if he’s looking, he won’t find us. There’s no point in playing with that receiver.”

  Hawthorn knew there was a very real possibility Wraith was not looking for them, that he did not care and was just glad to be rid of them. The sword-ship, Jupiter’s Glory, belonged to Wraith and he did not like the complications of having so many people aboard who did not share his own utilitarian military ways. If Wraith was not looking for them, there was little chance of a rescue, for no one else would happen by. It was why Hawthorn had to believe he was out there, that the Glory was searching even now.

  “It’s you I feel sorriest for,” Hawthorn said. “Iris and I, we’ve had our differences, but you’re only twenty-one, Beth, and you’ve already been through so much pain in life.”

  “It’s not so bad. I don’t have my forge, I don’t have anything familiar, but I do have you. I trust you, Gordon. I don’t trust much in life, but I trust you.”

  “That’s good of you to say. I’m glad you’re having a good day, Beth.”

  “I wallow too much in self-pity, Gordon. I know I do and I need to stop. But the real world frightens me and it’s so much easier to beat out metal on a forge. Especially since we lost another of the craft I built. I can’t help but think about all the work I’m going to have to do if we ever get back to the Glory.”

  “This could be your chance as well, Beth. Iris and I, I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, but this could be good for you. A chance to get away from the familiar. An opportunity to talk.”

  “I want to, and I’m trying. I just …” She looked away – at nothing, since there was nothing much else to look at. “I know I’m a coward, that I should forget about everything that’s happened to me, but I talk to people and I freeze up.”

  “You’re afraid you’re going to be hurt again.”

  “I’m afraid I still think I deserve to be hurt.”

  “Beth, after we rescued you from the pirates, you were crucified by the Church of Themisto. That’s not something that happens to most people, but you survived it. That has to mean something.”

  “Yes. It means you saved me twice and I’m ungrateful enough to suffer massive anxiety attacks because of it.”

  “I don’t think you’re ungrateful.”

  Hart said nothing. Hawthorn did not know what else to say, so the two of them sat in silence.

  “If smugglers stole a shipment of laxative,” Hart said after a few minutes, “and crashed on Oberon, where would the great explosion come from?”

  “Uh … say what now?”

  “Oberon. It’s a moon of Uranus.”

  Hawthorn blinked. “Are you making a joke?”

  “A racist joke. I’m sure the people of Uranus haven’t had anyone make fun of them before.”

  “You know, they like for it to be pronounced You-rin-us.”

  “I know. But You-rain-us is much funnier. Besides, You-rin-us is just the same as Urine-us, which isn’t any better. Those Uranians never catch a break.”

  Hawthorn smiled. It was good to have something of the old Beth back, even if he had never known the old Beth before she had become the twisted mess that she was.

  “Beth,” he said, “what’s the first thing you’re going to do if we make it back to the Glory?”

  “Honest answer? Retreat back to my forge and pretend life doesn’t exist.”

  “Will you try talking to the rest of the crew? For me?” He could tell she was afraid of the prospect. She had latched onto Hawthorn as her saviour and as such did not mind doing things for him. She had once said all the vehicles she built were for him, almost as a thank you for having saved her life, but she needed to move beyond him. “The problem, is,” he continued, “I may not be around forever. Something bad could happen to me, you know. I want to be sure you’ll be safe if that does happen.”

  “I wouldn’t let it happen, Gordon.”

  “And I’m grateful that you’re looking out for me, but it doesn’t make me immortal. What about Iris? Whenever she comes home, you close the door and stay here in the dark. What if I brought her in here when she comes back? You could talk to her.”

  Hart shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not ready to talk to anyone else yet.”

  “But you get along fine with me, Beth. Iris is a woman. The two of you could have a good old girlie chat or something.”

  “I don’t do girlie chats, Gordon. I suppose we could compare how Securitarn tormented her by cutting into her brain with how pirates tormented me by beating me every day until I was broken so badly I shot passing spacecraft and murdered their crews.”

  “That’s … not even remotely what I was talking about.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t have anything in common with Iris. She intimidates me.”

  “She intimidates me, and I’m in love with her.”

  “Still? You don’t talk about that much.”

  “You kidding? I never shut up about it. You’re just usually staring at your knees and don’t pay any attention to what I’m saying.”

  “If you love her, why aren’t you together?”

  “We’re not quite apart, although I don’t think it’s quite the same.”

  “I’m serious. If you have a chance at happiness, you should seize it. Fight for her.”

  “My only obstacle there is Iris herself.”

  “Then fight her for her.”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t mean knock her over the head and drag her back to your cave. I mean talk to her, tell her how you feel.”

  “She knows how I feel. We were together for months.”

  “Tell her you still feel the same. You do still feel the
same, don’t you?”

  “You know, I’m starting to prefer it when you just stare at your knees.”

  “Gordon?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do love her. I’m not sure how she feels any more, that’s all. Iris has her own set of problems. She has a lot to deal with, she needs to come to terms with what Securitarn did to her, and she can’t do that if she’s thinking about me. She has to prioritise, I get that.”

  “You should be her priority.”

  “I’m not going to stop her doing what she needs to do.”

  “That’s very altruistic of you.”

  Hawthorn shrugged. He did not like to talk about his emotions, although was willing to discuss anything with Hart if it meant keeping her talking. He may have said something more, but the entire cabin shook. It did that sometimes, when the storm grew really bad, but this time it felt different somehow. Hawthorn could not explain precisely how, but whatever was happening, it had nothing to do with the storm. In a flash of hope, he reasoned it could be a rescue vessel landing outside, that the backdraft from the engines had rocked the cabin.

  “Come on,” he said, “this could be our lucky day.”

  Setting down the transmitter, Hawthorn got to his feet and held out his hand. Hart stared at him for but a moment before taking his hand and allowing him to haul her to her feet. Her movements were stiff from having been in the same position for so long, but it was a first step towards rehabilitation.

  Together, they walked out of the cupboard and headed excitedly for the front door.

  They were only halfway across the cabin when half the roof was torn away.

  Wind shrieked through the house, while rain assaulted the walls, the furniture, the stove. It was as though the storm was a living entity, at last having broken through the cabin’s defences to dance to its heart’s content in the forbidden area. Hawthorn instinctively shielded Hart, although the rain striking them would not prove harmful in small quantities. He shielded his eyes and placed his other hand above Hart’s. Above them, he could see a dark form through the great hole in the roof and could not imagine it was a rescue craft.