Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I’m trying to justify it in my mind, I know. I can’t help it. Farli walks at my side, smiling and happy, and I can’t get over the feeling of guilt that I’m going to be taking her away from a people that adore her and dropping her into my world, where she’ll just be another person. Another refugee in a galaxy full of refugees of one kind or another.
But I can’t bear the thought of giving her up. She’s mine.
As we approach the ship, I eye it speculatively. The hull is completely compromised, with gaps between metal panels and missing bolts. I’m surprised it’s managed to stay together as much as it has. It’s ancient, all right. I’ve seen vids of Old Sakh space vessels, and had a good laugh at how clunky and crude they seemed compared to the sleek modern versions. Seeing one in front of me fills me with a sense of history and wonder, and I can’t wait to get inside and poke around.
Once inside, Harlow takes charge. She powers up the decrepit computer and runs a diagnostic, just like I would. Immediately, the system comes back with a ping. “Completed,” Harlow says. “No errors. Huh.”
Something sizzles. We both look over at one of the panels, where sparks are flying out from the metal.
“No errors, eh?” I say. “Pretty sure that’s wrong. The Lady’s computer is pretty new, and after a tump-over like that, she’d be throwing errors all over the place. Let me take a look.”
“Please do,” Harlow says, moving to the side.
“Rukhar, why don’t we clean up in here and start a fire?” Farli says brightly. “We can get this place like it was before while your parents and my mate work.” She takes the little boy by the hand and leads him deeper into the ship’s main storage area. It’s full of debris, most of it tossed to the far end of the bay. “I remember this place from many seasons ago. Do you? You were just a tiny kit then.”
I put my hands on the input terminal for the old computer. It doesn’t have an intuitive interface—where I can direct it with a few flicks of my hand or a strong, pointed thought from my cranial implant—so I’ll direct it manually. I decide to start with a simple scan of all functional areas of the ship, just to see what it comes back with. “Might take me a few to get up to speed on this thing,” I tell Harlow. “It’s a little older than what I’m used to.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s a dinosaur compared to yours,” she says with a grin. “It’s what, almost three hundred years out of date?”
I give her an odd look. “Three hundred? Try over a thousand.”
She frowns at me, her pale brow furrowing. “It can’t be. The computer’s given us detailed accountings of the crash here, and it happened 286 years ago. Well, okay, that was when we first arrived, so I guess it’s been…” She pauses and counts on her fingers. “Two hundred ninety-four years total. Not a thousand.”
“It’s been at least a thousand,” I correct her. “Probably more. The language you’re speaking is Old Sakh. This type of ship,” I say, pointing at the terminal I stand in front of, “hasn’t been in use for millennia.”
Harlow seems troubled. “I know there are things that don’t add up, timeline-wise. Like, how is it that the oldest of the sa-khui don’t remember anything about the crash if they’re so long-lived? They’ve been here for generations upon generations, but if I math it out, it should only be two or three generations, max. Someone should remember this being a ship and not a cave.” She shakes her head. “But computers can’t think for themselves, so when it tells me 286 years, I believe it. Plus, it knows human languages. Specifically, it knows human English, which has only been around for a few hundred years. So the crash couldn’t have happened that long ago.”
I shake my head. I think I’m starting to understand why Harlow is so convinced that the crash is more recent than it truly is. I know I’m right, though. These people have been here longer than a mere 300 years. That doesn’t make sense at any level, not when I’m looking at just how ancient this ship is. I know my Sakh history. “Let’s test a few things,” I say when the computer comes back with another clear diagnostic.
“All right,” Harlow says, and crosses her arms. “Go ahead.”
“Computer, can you hear me?”
“I can. May I be of assistance?”
I glance at Harlow, then speak aloud to the computer again. “What is the current year?”
“The current year is 9,546. Day 18.”
“Is that right?” Harlow wants to know.
I shrug. “We don’t reckon things by Old Sakh calendars anymore. It could be. I’d have to math things out. According to the Lady, and by current reckoning, this is Druzhal Year 742. It’s just a number.” I think for a moment and continue. “Computer, tell me, what model is this ship?”