Junkyard Cats - Faith Hunter Page 0,45
energy propulsion system that could be used in or out of atmospheric conditions was in production.
Simultaneously, researchers in China discovered a second WIMP particle and entered the race to create an engine system using the WIMP2. In an unprecedented race for the planets, both nations had WIMP engine prototypes capable of intra-sol-system space and atmospheric flight by the end of 2028, though there were hardware problems in flight that resulted in multiple deaths among flight crews on both sides.
Within four years, in early 2032, China sent an automated vehicle to Mars, using instantaneous Entangled Neutrino communication to control the ship. The flight took forty-two days. China followed it up with a manned flight in 2035, and claimed the entire Martian planet for the People’s Republic. The European Union, the U.S., and Russia all took offense, and in 2037, all three sent manned vehicles to repudiate the claim. It is believed that tech from the alien “Bug” spaceship retrieved by the European Union in 2036 assisted in the allied WIMP engine development. Ultimately, the Mars debacle and the alien tech led to war.
I shut off the chip’s info flow. Everything had led to war. Every single thing.
Aloud, I said, “So the WIMP engines are leaking, and the EntNu can’t communicate.”
“Except with me,” Jolene said, sounding apologetic, “and that’s only been for the last six-hundred twenty-five days. It took me that long to convince the CO to run a hard line down into the crack.”
“But the MS Angels know about the SunStar. Maybe from the line you ran down?”
“Possible, Darlin’, but not likely,” she said, her Southern accent back strong. “As to your other question, that might present a theory. The second in command of the SunStar was Captain Evelyn Raymond. While my records don’t indicate that anyone except the CO was aboard the SunStar when I went down, they also don’t indicate that Captain Raymond ever placed herself in her escape pod.”
“She was on board the ship when it went down,” I said.
“Speculation. But possible.”
“She’s the Evelyn they were talking about. And she somehow ended up riding with the Angels.”
“Or she’s their prisoner. My records indicate that Captain Raymond would never violate her oath of service, which would include disclosing the presence or location of the SunStar. Never.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But prolonged drugs and torture might have changed that. You’ve been here for years. So, now, we have to rescue Mateo, question some of the MS Angels, kill them all, maybe kill Jagger, and figure out how to rescue Captain Raymond, who is MIA.”
A second jolt of artificial energy shot through me from the SunStar’s med-bay.
“Piece of cake,” I finished.
“Your suit’s reading hunger, Darlin’. My stores can provide sustenance, though the crew made it clear that the cake was not up to human standards.”
Piece of cake. Right. I chuckled. “Okay.”
I pulled myself up and forward, dragging my feet through the broken tiles, heading back to the access hatch. Cats followed in my wake and raced ahead, exploring.
“I’ll eat. Then we go rescue Mateo and kill off some Puffers. Oh.” I stopped. “What did the Crawler do while it was inside you?”
“There have been no reports of hostile incursion, Sweet Thang.”
“Take a look at the vid Mateo found. It’s in Gomez’s files.”
Jolene said something very unladylike and stopped talking to me. I found my way to a weapons locker, weaponed up, and then found something that looked like a food storage and prep device—if such a thing were the size of a small car—and ordered lunch. With cake. The reconstituted soup wasn’t bad, but Jolene’s crew was right.
The cake sucked.
* * *
With the exception of the office lights, which were off tonight, there was never artificial illumination in the junkyard to pollute the sky. Tonight, the moon was below the horizon, the night sky was as black as the far reaches of space, and the stars were a glowing blanket so rich and deep and intense it took my breath away. I tracked the warbot suit and found Mateo, the three-legged, three-armed warbot, on the ground in a tangle of limbs. The cats were sitting on his chest carapace, staring at the single shuddering leg.
Jolene had isolated the Puffers in one leg and kept them there.
I tried to communicate with Mateo via EntNu and radio, but he didn’t answer, so I leaned over the meter-wide helmet section and tapped on the silk-plaz screen. My “shave and a haircut” tapping was answered from the torso cavity with the requisite “two bits,” and Mateo’s