Special Delivery

DATE: Year 308-B, Sol 444

LOCATION: Aboard The Mighty Sparrow (Getting Closer to Venus)

The Mighty Sparrow vibrated constantly with the rumble of the Marley’s unshielded reactor. Phoenix sat in the pilot’s seat, staring at the Orrery. The brass planet of Venus was getting bigger.

-Six more days, he whispered.

Phoenix knew it was Easter and played with his prayer beads but didn’t say anything. And he knew he wasn’t supposed to be here but it wouldn’t help anyone to hear that. In one way, his life ended five weeks ago when he got picked up by the MTC in the Halo. He’d been warned it was risky, that MTC patrols in the Halo had picked up in frequency and urgency, but he had also had a lead on Old Earth tech from a scavenger that had just come back from the Halo that was too good to resist. It would’ve been a good pay day.

Instead he found himself drifting to Venus, the Old Earth tech frying his new friend’s brain after keeping him alive. He started to wonder about the character who’s story sent him to the Halo in the first place but Bit interrupted his train of thought.

-Six days is a long time cramped in here, the child said from the floor.

Bit was sitting cross-legged, playing cards with Hap. Bit looked bad. His eyes were sunken, his lips cracked.

-What are you teaching him? Phoenix asked, looking at the cards.

-He’s teaching me, Bit replied.

They were down to half-rations. The "rocket fuel salad" Hap had come up with was keeping them alive, but it tasted like burning rubber and gave them all headaches.

In the co-pilot seat, Himalaya Market was shivering.

He was wrapped in three thermal blankets, pulled out of the cargo hold, and his teeth chattered audibly. The blue scars on his face were pulsing, bright enough to cast shadows in the dim cockpit.

-The grid, Market mumbled. The lines are crossed. Sector 7 is bleeding.

-Market, Phoenix said gently. Drink some water.

He held a pouch to Market’s lips. Market slapped it away.

-Not water! he snapped. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated. Data!

He reached out, his fingers twitching in the air as if typing on an invisible keyboard.

-He’s getting worse, Bit whispered.

Phoenix looked at the Black Box. It was sitting on the dashboard and the lights on its surface were dancing in perfect sync with the scars on Market’s chest.

-Maybe he’s buffering, Phoenix said.

The radio crackled. It was the Marley.

-Sparrow, this is Marley Actual. We have a, uh, situation in Bay 4.

-What kind of situation? Phoenix asked, rubbing his eyes.

-A riot. Someone stole a water ration. They’re trying to open the airlock. They want to, they say they want to walk to Venus?

-Space madness, Phoenix cursed. Hold them off. I’m coming over to dock.

-No, Market shouted.

He sat up, the blankets falling away. His chest was glowing.

-Do not break formation. The wolf is watching.

-Market, sit down.

-He is watching, Market said, pointing at the black viewport. I can see him. The Forager. He is in the shadow. He is waiting for the drift to end.

Phoenix looked at the scope. It was clear. No contacts.

-There’s nothing there, Market. We’re in the blind spot.

-Because he is not emitting, Market screamed. But I can hear him, Market sang. I can hear his targeting computer. It is calculating. Vector. Drift. In-Ter-Cept.

Market grabbed his head, rocking back and forth.

-It’s too loud. The network is screaming.

Phoenix looked at Hap.

-Is there a ship out there, Hap?

-PASSIVE SENSORS ARE NEGATIVE, Hap buzzed. HOWEVER, THE BIOLOGICAL INTERFACE IS EMITTING HIGH LEVELS OF NEURAL STRESS. HE MAY BE DETECTING RADIO WAVES FROM THE SHIP.

-He’s a radio now? Great.

Phoenix looked at the Marley through the viewport. If he docked now, he’d expose the Sparrow to Doremus’s sensors. He had not told the Marley fleet about Market’s return, not until he knew what was going on with him. It would only terrify the refugees more.

Phoenix grabbed the comms mic.

-Marley, negative on the assist. I can't break the radiation shadow.

-Captain, they’re going to breach the hull.

-Then vent the airlock, Phoenix said coldly. Just a burst. Scare them back. But nobody leaves the ship. And nobody comes in. How did you survive your whole life in space?

He cut the line.

-We hold the drift, Phoenix said to the cockpit. Nobody moves until we hit the atmosphere.

Market fell asleep, twitching and muttering about firewalls and admin keys.

Hours turned into shifts into days and the hum of the reactor bored into their skulls.

Phoenix stared at Venus. The planet was huge now, filling the viewport. A swirling ball of sulfuric acid and crushed dreams.

-And what happens when we get there? Bit asked quietly.

-We land in a sky city, Phoenix said.

-What if the Warlords shoot us?

-Then we dodge.

-What if the acid melts the ship?

-Then we melt.

-You’re bad at cheering people up, Bit said.

-Nothing cheers you up more than being alive, Phoenix responded.

Ping.

A sound cut through the cockpit. It was the dedicated receiver. The one kept tuned to the emergency frequency.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

-What is that? Bit asked.

Phoenix leaned forward. A text string was scrolling across the bottom of his screen.

-Someone is sending a message, from a pretty big transmitter to get out here.

SOURCE: UNKNOWN (MARS RELAY) ENCRYPTION: ARCHIVIST LEVEL MESSAGE: HANDSHAKE PROTOCOL 77-V

-Mars? Phoenix frowned. Who do we know on Mars?

He opened the file.

ATTACHMENT: VENUSIAN ATMOSPHERIC SHIELD – IFF KEY

Phoenix stared at it.

-IFF, he whispered. -Identification Friend or Foe.

He looked at the code, then at the planet looming in the window.

-This is a shield key. It’ll let us get into the Venusian atmosphere without tripping the defense perimeter and giving the warlords a heads up.

-Who sent it? Bit asked.

-I don't know, Phoenix said.

Bit tapped Phoenix’s prayer beads three times.

Market gasped in his sleep.

Phoenix punched the code into the nav-computer.

-Wake up, everybody.

He grabbed the throttle.

-Hap, prep the engines. We’re done drifting.

-ACKNOWLEDGED.

Phoenix keyed the fleet-wide channel.

-Marley, this is Sparrow. Pack your bags and lock your trays. We are beginning our descent.

He pushed the stick forward. The Mighty Sparrow broke formation, diving away from the Marley’s shadow and straight toward the yellow clouds of Venus.

On the scope, a red blip appeared instantly.

CONTACT: MTC CORVETTE 'THE FORAGER'

Doremus had been waiting the whole time.