Broken Sight
By Steve Rzasa
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Prologue
Katarina ran.
She stumbled through the shadowy corridor. Her feet padded on the deck tiles—white flesh on silver metal. Pale orange lights flickered every few seconds, illuminating the immaculate, polished deck and the glistening pine panels inlaid on the white bulkheads. Framed images of mountains, forests, coastlines, and entire worlds were interspersed among the hatches and access panels.
It wasn’t much farther.
Muffled gunshots barked somewhere. A deck or two above her? Katarina couldn’t tell. She paused mid-step. Shouting—more than one voice. Two? Or three? Or more? Thudding boots. The sounds were moving away from her. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and continued on.
A narrower corridor crossed the main one at an intersection ahead. Katarina eased up to the bulkhead. The corridor ahead of her was dark, except for more orange pinpoints of light. She saw no one to her right—it led back toward cargo storage. Katarina peered around the corner to her left. Nothing.
She wished her heart would stop hammering so.
Her stared back at her from the shining surface of a landscape painting. Her cheeks were pink and taut. Katarina’s fear diminished as her anger grew. How dare they? Boarding her own ship! If she could, she would fight them all off herself. Make them pay. Her father had been a fusilier. She remembered his legion’s motto—more like a toast, actually.
Na smierc. To death.
Katarina looked down at herself. She doubted any fusilier had gone into battle wearing a loose, flowing satin robe of crimson and black. No weapons on hand, either. She reached into one of her pockets.
The journal was there. Its ruddy cover was supple and not yet worn from use. It was safe. She exhaled.
Footsteps. Behind her.
Katarina pressed flat to the bulkhead. Her hands ran over a surface that was colder, smoother than the rest of the bulkhead—a cabin hatch? The control panel must be nearby. There it was. She pressed the switch. The hatch hissed open.
The boot steps were getting closer. But she couldn’t see anyone. Whoever it was stayed out of sight around a distant, shadowy bend in the corridor.
Katarina slipped inside the hatch. She was in a crew cabin. Two bunk beds were attached to one wall. A small desk with its accompanying chair sat in the corner. A bathroom cubicle took up much of the rest of the space.
She went to close the hatch and hesitated. This running had to stop.
Na smierc.
She hauled herself onto the top bunk and pressed herself into the darkest recess against the bulkhead. Her legs tightened behind her. She was ready to spring. Hardly dignified.
It would have to do.
The boot steps grew closer—and slowed. Orange flickers failed to penetrate the open hatchway into the dark cabin. Then the shadow appeared.
Katarina held her breath until it hurt.
A silhouetted figure loomed in the hatch. Male. Stocky, wide, and muscled. She could tell that much. And he had a gun.
He stepped through the hatch with practiced ease. His weapon swept the interior in slow arcs. This man was well-trained. Disciplined. No pirate.
That only infuriated Katarina more.
She waited until he had turned slightly away. He reached to his belt for an oblong object.
Beacon.
Katarina kicked off from the wall. She saw his face for an instant before her arms jammed against his shoulders. It was a blur of features she could not recall. They went to the deck in a heap.
The gun clattered into a corner. Somewhere. She couldn’t see it.
They wrestled for advantage. A boot struck Katarina’s shin, but she refused to cry out. Tears stung her eyes. She jabbed an elbow. It dug into something soft and unresisting. Her assailant choked, a terrible sound.
His throat.
Katarina’s hands scrambled for capture. She caught hold, felt the jagged Adam’s apple and coarse whiskers. His breath carried a hint of ning. Fine coffee.
She gave a mental cry for strength from her ancestors and squeezed hard. Then she twisted her hands sharply.
The man’s hands stopped grappling with her. He went for her wrists. She could feel the desperation in his grasp. She ignored it. Made herself cold. For all she knew this man had shot and killed her crew.
She twisted harder.
A sickening crack shattered the silence. The body slumped.
It was over.
Katarina’s chest heaved. She gasped and choked. Then she vomited on the decking. Chills shook her. She wiped the sour liquid from her mouth with the back of her hand.
He was dead.
She scrambled to her feet. Where was the gun? She felt for it on the deck but couldn't—all she felt was cold metal. Katarina didn't dare waste more time. She had heard more voices before. Go, now!
Silence outside the hatch. Katarina peered out. No one. She stepped out and sealed it. She slid along toward the intersection.
“Mama!” The whisper flitted to her through the air.
They were all right. Thank the stars.
Katarina slipped into the short corridor. She saw an open hatch at the end. A small, scared face peeked out.
“Mama! Hurry!”
Katarina stumbled silently through the hatch and over the arm’s length threshold. Her eyes were drawn to a boxy console of flickering lights and buttons hanging from a strut above the seat opposite the hatch. There were five seats altogether, pressed in one circular bench around the edge of the room. Each was perched over a small cabinet with recessed latch. The seats were home to webs of straps and restraints that reminded her of the leash she used for her pet Rozsade gyrpanther. She wondered if she’d ever see Lotny again.
Thank her great-grandmother’s spirit, both her children were crouched in the middle of the rough decking, unhurt. They wore identical tight fitting survival jumpsuits of brown and midnight blue. Her daughter seized her about the legs. “Mama!”
Katarina bent and wrapped her in a crushing hug. When she pulled back, her daughter’s eyes were bright with tears. She was pretty, with blue eyes that were lovely even when she was frightened. Katarina brushed a strand of curly blond hair from the girl’s face. “It is all right, Elzbieta. I’m here. My little Ela, be brave.”
“I’m scared. I heard the yelling and the loud noises!”
“Those were guns, Ela” her son said. Where Katarina’s daughter was afraid, her boy, Egidiusz, was calm and still. He stood and hugged Katarina about the neck. “I put my suit on and got Ela into hers, Mother. Just like you said to.”
“You are a good boy, Idzi,” Katarina said.
“Mama, I told you, use Egidiusz. Use my grown-up name.” He made a face that she interpreted as an attempt at maturity. His eyes were hazel and his nose long—like his father's. She made no move to fix the rumpled sandy hair—Idzi hated that. “I’m ten now.”
“Yes, and you are a big man in our house.”
“There’s a suit for you too.” Idzi pointed toward one the cabinet under one of the seats.
“Dobrze. Now, get strapped in.”
Idzi complied. He pulled his sister gently away from Katarina and led her to the seats, whispering in her ear. She snuffled a bit but nodded.
Shouts echoed from the corridor. Katarina’s heart leapt. She lunged for the hatch and sealed it. The inner hatch slammed shut. She had a second or two to see shadowy figures sprint toward them before the outer hatch shut too.
“Get your straps on!” Katarina said. She threw herself into her own seat and wrestled with the fasteners. The control panel flashed just above her.
Pounding echoed on the hatch. The smell of her own sweat added to the stale tang in the air.
“Mama, we’re ready.” Idzi was solemn. Katarina looked up to see him gripping his sister’s hand tightly. Ela had her eyes pinched shut and her face scrunched against his shoulder.
“Say a prayer, my children. Kocham was.” Katarina slammed her hand against the launch switch.
Red light bathed the interior. There was a long, grating shudder and then a jarring pause.
Katarina took a deep breath.
A tremendous force shoved her down and against her seat. Sound like a thunderclap rang in her ears. She thought she heard Idzi scream something. Her reply wasn’t audible even to her.
When the force lessened, she pried her eyes open. A blue light blinked on the control panel. She pressed it.
A small holographic image of a rounded Mark Four-Alpha escape pod sprang to life in the center of the compartment. Despite her fear, Katarina noticed Idzi’s eyes light up with avid interest. “Ela, look! That’s our pod!”
Ela opened one eye but did not move her head away from his shoulder.
Katarina pushed another button to widen the display angle. The escape pod hurtled through space, away from her ship. There it was: her sapphire. Its hull a shimmered blue-green. It was all smooth curves and graceful lines flowing up to and around the bulging Raszewski sphere at its center. No viewport lights flickered. No running lights showed.
She was dead in space.
Katarina choked back a sob.
“Mama?” Ela’s voice shook. “Where are we going?”
The pod’s acceleration lessened. The hologram spun about. Katarina could feel her body lighten as the force of gravity loosened its hold. She let one arm drift lazily up to the control panel and toggled a switch.
A slender viewport opened just above the hatch. Space was a startling midnight black sprinkled with brilliant diamonds. Katarina did not answer her daughter. Not yet…
The viewport filled with a curve of the deepest, darkest blue. A large swatch of greens and violets so dark they were almost black crept into sight. Wisps of white swaddled the shape. Water and land and clouds. A world.
“There, Ela. We’re going there.”
“What is it?”
“A place to hide. For now. Until someone comes to save us.”
“Mama?” Idzi was calm and firm. “Why did those men shoot? Why are they on our ship?”
“They want something.”
“Did you give it to them?”
“No.”
Idzi looked at her with open curiosity but said nothing further.
Katarina didn’t tell him the entire truth. Idzi probably suspected. She wouldn’t let those people find her or her children. They couldn’t.
They would kill them if they did.