Chapter 2

Dixon, Leonard F. Neurojournal Broadcast No. 679

Date Unknown

Initializing Infomatrix link...

Node timeout. Retrying...

Node timeout. Retrying...

Node timeout. Retrying...

Fuck that noise. Discontinue attempts to connect.

Entering standby mode.

Activate local data storage.

Subcutaneous data storage device initialized. Four point nine terabytes remaining.

Sensory receptors initializing.

Blood pressure graph suggests near-panic. Respiratory activity near hyperventilation.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): What the fuck is going on?!

Static lines dance across the lens view as it comes into focus. It's dark, but the darkness is broken occasionally by bursts of sparks spilling from a bent conduit that dangles from the ceiling. The lens follows the sparkfall to the stretch of beige runner carpet that bisects the passenger cabin of the experimental starship Unfettered. Sparks bounce off a pair of black leather boots that jut out from the gap between rows of seats.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Talk to me!

The lens moves, coming around for a better view of the person between the seats. It's a man in a navy blue Vanguard military uniform. Lens zooms in on the patch of fabric above the left breast that reads “Adelman.” Lens rises to take in the soldier's face. Blood is trickling down the cheek, apparently from a scalp wound, but he appears conscious.

ADELMAN (Audio): You okay, Mr. Dixon?

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): No, I think it's safe to say I'm fucking well not all right! What happened? Where are we? Is help on the way?

The soldier shakes his head.

ADELMAN (Audio): I don't know.

UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE VOICE (Audio): Mr. Dixon, please return to your seat.

The lens turns toward the source of the new voice. She's a young woman with mussed brown hair, round face illuminated by the sparks. She wears a dark skirt and red blouse. Only one shoe, high heel. Future references to voice should identify source as Meghan Falkenberg, spokeswoman for Soltek.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Is help coming?

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Mr. Dixon, if you'll return to your seat, I can brief you fully on the current situation.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Why don't you just brief me no matter what? What difference does it make whether I'm in my seat or not? Answer the goddamned question!

Blood pressure readings indicate medically dangerous anxiety.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): No need to be stubborn. You don't have the data stored...you know, in there?

Falkenberg pushes the point of her index finger toward Dixon's forehead.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): No. I was in online storage mode. I was trying to link back with the Infomatrix. Couldn't get through.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Neither can we. What's the last thing you remember?

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Besides you turning me down?

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Yes, besides that.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): The jump worked. That spooky-ass Hiver thing activated the drive. We moved from Citadel to Ganymede in a split second. Then the pilot came onto the PA and started going on about another ship, possibly hostile. They shoot us? We dead in space?

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): No, we're not dead in space. I'm not entirely sure where we are, beyond our immediate surroundings. The Unfettered is stuck inside the belly of a big space whale, far as we can tell.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Big space whale? Is this a practical joke?

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Nothing practical about it. If you take your seat, you can look out the porthole.

Lens moves from Meghan Falkenberg and down the aisle, turning left at the row where Dixon had his seat assignment. He settles in next to the porthole, the plastic shield of which is currently lowered. A hand reaches to lift the shield, opening the porthole. Through it, one can view a cavernous chamber beyond, with great ribbed walls that – although brownish-gray – have an organic look to them. The platform that currently supports the Unfettered is suspended within the spacious globular edifice by strands of the same brownish-gray material that forms the walls. One of the strands forms a railed catwalk that leads from the platform to another section of the larger vessel. Glowing yellow-green orbs float through the air, providing illumination.

Standing at the base of the Unfettered's landing ramp, six Vanguard soldiers are on watch with plasma rifles.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): So, I get to play Jonah now? Surprise.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): We don't know which government owns the big ship, but the technology appears to be more advanced than anything we've seen before. We're hoping to get some answers from Goliath, but he's not answering.

Lens shifts back to focus on Falkenberg.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): The Hiver? Why won't he answer?

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Captain Panderyn can't find him.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): That doesn't make any fucking sense.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): No, it doesn't.

There's noise from offvid as the cockpit hatch thunks open. The lens shifts to give a view down the aisle to a tan, gray-haired man in Vanguard uniform as he emerges from the cockpit. Zoom in to name patch: “Panderyn.” He looks down at Adelman as he moves down the aisle.

PANDERYN (Audio): On your feet when you're done lollygagging, Private.

ADELMAN (Audio): Aye, Captain.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Captain, I was just bringing Mr. Dixon up to speed on our situation. Any luck with Goliath?

PANDERYN (Audio): No. The drive appears functional. All systems, by and large, seem to be operating at nominal capacity. However, they are also being jammed and subdued. Dampening fields of some kind. It's beyond anything Brechtman and I can sort out.

Lens shifts from Panderyn to the porthole again.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Ever thought of just getting out and asking whoever's driving the big fucking boat?

PANDERYN (Audio): Yes, Mr. Dixon, that did cross our mind.

FALKENBERG, MEGHAN (Audio): Private Adelman walked across the gap to that opening on the other end. He got a nasty jolt and had his brains rattled for his trouble. If we're going to talk to them, apparently it's going to be on their terms and on their timetable.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Oh, fuck that noise! I'm Lenny Dixon! They'll goddamned well talk to me! Everybody does!

Lens lurches from seat row and then down aisle toward airlock.

PANDERYN (Audio): Mr. Dixon, don't...

Into the airlock. He turns, palming a button to close the inner hatch. Through the inner hatch window, the lens can see Falkenberg, shouting. She pounds a fist on the window. Dixon turns, placing his palm on the button that opens the outer hatch. Expensive brown leather shoes thump softly on the metal plates of the landing ramp as he descends.

The lens shifts toward the Vanguard soldiers, who are turning to watch Dixon approach.

SOLDIER (Audio): Mr. Dixon, we're under orders to prevent you from crossing that catwalk.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): So, if I'm defiant, you'll shoot me?

SOLDIER (Audio): I'm afraid so.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Fuck it, then. Shoot me if you want. Otherwise, just stand back and be ready to laugh your ass off if that energy field knocks me senseless too.

The lens moves between the soldiers. They don't shoot, although they do raise their weapons and aim them at Dixon. The material that forms the landing platform definitely feels organic, even a little squishy although it has a rigid foundation beneath. Once on the catwalk, the view looking down shows a chasm that may be hundreds of meters deep. He looks up. Again, hundreds of meters to the upper curve of the chamber's dome.

What the fuck is this place?

A voice like a thousand voices speaking in unison, rasping and whispery, source unknown: “Home.”

Lens jerks around to look behind. Vanguard soldiers stand next to the shark-like shape of the Unfettered, still pointing their guns at Dixon. Now Falkenberg, Private Adelman, and Captain Panderyn are walking down the ramp.

PANDERYN (Audio): Mr. Dixon, show a little sense!

Dixon shakes his head, then turns to continue walking across the catwalk. He reaches the other side and looks at the oval maw that rebuked Adelman so violently.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): Let me in, assholes. I'm a busy man with shit to do and you're keeping me from it. Let's talk.

A blue-green glimmer and hum as the energy field dissipates from the opening. Dixon steps into the chamber beyond the catwalk without suffering any ill effects. He turns to look out at the personnel gathered around the Unfettered.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): See? That wasn't so bad!

The glimmer and hum repeats itself as the field reactivates. A flicker of something just outside his field of view, to the right in the shadows of the smaller chamber. He turns, but sees nothing. The flicker occurs again, this time to the left. The lens follows, but sees nothing.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): So what now?

The multivoice, from out of nowhere, speaks once more: “We talk.”

There's a hissing noise, then a sharp jabbing pain as something penetrates his upper left arm through the sleeve of his gray turtleneck. He looks down to see a primitive-looking metal dart with reddish-blue fletching.

DIXON, LEONARD F. (Audio): What the...

The lens swims upward, then sideways, and then Dixon tumbles onto the faintly moist material of the floor. Then, his eyes close. Darkness again.