of the main flight console with her TéléCom open in front of her. He left the window and walked over to look at her screen. “The ship’s flight log will display Reichenstat as the destination, but the coordinates in the nav system are set to Albion.”
In the center of the flight bridge, a hologram map glowed above a small pedestal, illustrating their flight path from Laterre, across the Asteroid Channel, to the pristine blue-and-green planet of Laterre’s long-time enemy. And suspended above the two planets, like the countdown of an explosif, was a giant clock, ticking down the time until their arrival.
05.02.32
5 days. 2 hours. 32 minutes.
“I’m going to explore the ship!” Gabriel said, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “Anyone want to join me?” He glanced from Cerise to Alouette to Marcellus who all stared blankly back at him. “No takers? Okay then.”
Once Gabriel had scurried off toward the stairs to the lower decks, Cerise rolled her eyes and continued, “I also managed to hijack an inactive Albion call signal to mask the Laterrian one on this ship. So that should allow us to cross into Albion airspace without any problems. But we can’t just land a Laterrian voyageur in an Albion spaceport. So we’re going to have to figure out another place to land. Maybe a private port outside of Queenstead, somewhere in the countryside. Hopefully our source can help us with that. Alouette, are you ready to transmit the message?”
Alouette nodded and Cerise tilted the TéléCom toward her. The screen was empty apart from a single green circle in the center. “I built this while you were in the ice box. It’s a bit rudimentary, but it should do the trick.”
Alouette tested it out, tapping her fingertip rhythmically against the circle in a sequence of long and short beeps. She looked up at Cerise with a smile. “That works.”
“Okay, once you record the message, I’ll transmit it through the same network in the probe. Remember, you are sending this message as Denise. Tell the source you will be there in five days, and request coordinates for a meeting.”
Alouette nodded and closed her eyes. On her thigh, her fingers bounced tentatively up and down, like she was pulling the secret rhythmic code out of her memories. Finally, she opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for the TéléCom.
As the sound of soft beeps filled the flight bridge, Marcellus’s gaze drifted back to the window. To the millions of kilomètres of space that stood between them and Albion. He couldn’t stop the last coded message from circling through his mind on a constant loop.
“Weapon nearly complete. Delivery in two weeks. I can stop it. Come now.”
That message had been meant for Denise. What would the source do when four strangers showed up in her place?
Once Alouette had completed the recording, Cerise took over, her hands flying over the TéléCom, accessing screens and portals that Marcellus had never seen before. It reminded him of when he’d first met Denise at the Vallonay Policier Precinct and she’d hacked his TéléCom right before his very eyes.
“Okay. The transmission is sent,” Cerise announced. “Now I guess we just have to wait for a response.”
Marcellus clenched his fists tightly at his sides. He didn’t like the fact that their entire plan depended on some mysterious source on Albion responding to a bunch of beeps sent through a space probe that hadn’t been operational in five hundred years.
But he supposed it was the only plan they had.
“Did you know this ship has seven bathrooms and a full kitchen?” Gabriel suddenly came barreling back into the flight bridge, looking winded.
“It’s called a galley,” Cerise said with a roll of her eyes.
Gabriel ignored her. “And six bedrooms.”
“Couchettes,” Cerise corrected.
“And three escape pods!” Gabriel’s enthusiasm suddenly clouded over with fear. “Wait a minute, why does the ship need escape pods?”
Just then, the voyageur began to rumble beneath their feet, and Marcellus instinctively grabbed on to the edge of the flight console, bracing himself.
“What was that!?” Gabriel asked, his eyes wide. “Did we hit an asteroid?”
“Don’t be such an idiot,” Cerise said, securing the harness of her flight seat. “It’s just the engines preparing to boost into supervoyage. You better strap in.”
Gabriel practically dove into the seat next to her and fumbled to fasten the restraints.
“Acceleration stabilizeurs activated.” The voice of the ship’s autopilote slipped into the air. “Accelerating to supervoyage in ten … nine … eight …”
Marcellus and Alouette took two of the other seats