Peony stepped out of the colony pre-fab and looked up at the stars. They seemed impossibly far away, especially with the dark bulk of the Calliope’s Challenge darkening the foothills to the north. The ship had spat them out in survival pods, then brought herself in in as controlled a crash as the AI could manage.

  Peony sighed. While the Calliope hadn’t been one of the famous HMT, or Human Mind Transfer, ships, she’d been as sentient as anyone Peony knew…and sentients get lonely. Peony looked around the silent colony, noted the pale glare of the sun rising on the horizon, and sighed.

  No one was going to approve of what she was about to do…but nobody knew the Calliope like she did…and no one had assigned her a task they couldn’t cover themselves…and if colony management thought they could waste her time, because they couldn’t think of a function for an interface tech who had nothing with which to interface, they had another think coming.

  She closed the pre-fab door behind her, turning sharply to walk down the side of it and past the back. It was the fastest way out of the colony…and the least likely route for someone to notice her leaving, and ask what she was doing.

  No one was going to believe her if she told them “nothing.” The pack she was wearing put the lie to that, as did the fatigues and heavy walking boots. She was leaving for the Calliope, and she had no intention of coming back…not until she’d discovered the state of the ship, and what she could do to help it.

  Since the powers that be had designated the Calliope’s welfare too low on their priorities to spare her, Peony was going without their permission. She’d never been meant to be part of the settlement to start with, and the Calliope’s crash had put her plans for a spaceborne career on hold.

  On hold, she thought to herself. You’d better hope it’s only a hold.

  She glanced, again, at the crashed ship.

  Because that looks pretty permanent to me…an almost definite dead end.

  Still, the Calliope had protocols, and Peony was certain some of those included sourcing the power it needed for essential systems…like the AI, for instance. As the ship’s interface tech, it was her job to talk with the AI and make sure it was coping, regardless of the situation.

  The colony leaders had snorted when she’d told them that, and then insisted that having her shovel dirt for the colony’s greenhouse was more important.

  Buh bow, she thought, negating the idea. My primary duty is to the Calliope. That’s what my orders state—and while the ship exists, those orders stand.

  She moved into the uncleared scrubland at the edge of the settlement, noting the colony hadn’t been set down in the more accommodating plains near the shoreline they’d planned on.

  “Idiots,” she muttered, picking her way along the ridgeline leading away from the plateau on which the colony had been set. “Salvage should have been their first priority.”

  But, no, the colony leaders had said food was their first priority, especially since the Calliope hadn’t had time to jettison more than its living cargo and the basics they would need for a few weeks’ survival.

  It’s almost as if she expects us to come check on her, Peony thought, sliding her thumbs under the straps of her pack to ease its weight.

  She probably should have felt guilty about taking the pack. It wasn’t like she’d asked permission—and nor would she have received it, if she had. She had permission for one shovel and one wheelbarrow…and that was all.

  Glancing back to see if her departure had been noticed, Peony was relieved to see the pre-fabs still stood in shadow, and that nothing moved around them. It was more than she’d hoped, given the argument she’d raised for salvage.

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  Which had been when she’d realized she was one of five ship’s crew who’d been revived…and learned it had been by mistake. Looking back at the prefabs, she could see the rows of pods, all set down in orderly lines, and mostly unopened.

  The protocols had unlocked the colony leadership, first, then set about unlocking those most needed for salvage…until the colony leaders had overridden the controls and gone on to unlock the pods they’d deemed more important: farmers, fabricators, and communications. The Calliope’s captain had backed Peony’s protest that the ship needed to be assessed and salvaged, and its AI consulted, if it still ran. They’d been overridden, and the captain was enough of a stickler for the chain of command that he’d hushed her when she’d tried to continue.

  Memory of the stoic look on his face had her glance back, again, but the shadows around the pre-fabs remained still, bar the usual morning scurries and chirps of the planet’s wildlife. Peony reached the tree line, then followed the slope of the next hill to its crest. She didn’t relax, until she began descending the other side…and, even then, she didn’t relax.

  It wasn’t that she thought she was being followed; it was more that she didn’t know the world. Two days of wakefulness didn’t extend to over-familiarity. Who knew what kinds of creatures dwelt on the planet’s surface?

  It was another reason for her to see what state the Calliope was in. Peony was sure the ship would have jettisoned more, if it hadn’t thought it would survive…and the wreck looked pretty intact. Granted, not intact enough to ever get back into space, but definitely in good enough shape to offer shelter, and for its cargo to have survived…which only begged the question…

  “Why didn’t the colony leaders authorize salvage?” Peony murmured, topping the next rise, glad of the sparce shelter offered by the trees.

  The closer she got to the ship, the harder the trees made it to see. Sure, the wreck was clear enough from a distance, but that was with the advantage of it settling on the heights above the camp. Peony tried to remember how many valleys she’d seen in the folds between those hills, and exactly how far she might have to go.

  Her pilfering hadn’t extended to portable navigation equipment. The colony elders had that locked away in their personal quarters.

  “Pricks.” Peony scowled, working her way up the slope so she could see through a gap in the trees.

  Catching a glint of metal from the direction she thought the ship was in, she picked a marker on the opposite slope, and started down the valley.

  The ship had crashed into the side of the mountain, launching the colony pods toward the nearest large piece of flat ground. Peony estimated she still had a couple of miles to travel…and that was if she moved in a straight line. It didn’t take into account the distance up and down hill that lay in between, or any detours she’d have to make to navigate the boulders lying strewn across the slopes.

  Or climbing into a gorge, she thought, coming to an abrupt halt just after the top of the next hill.

  At least it gave her a clear view of the ship…up a long incline of shattered trees, burned earth and crushed undergrowth—and across the not-so-narrow confines of a ravine.

  “Now, what am I going to do?” she grumbled.

  “You could try heading west for two miles,” a familiar voice advised, invading her implant.

  Peony froze, and the ship continued as if it hadn’t noticed. “There’s a rock arch linking the two sides, the leaders don’t know about yet.”

  “Calliope?” Peony started walking in the direction, the ship advised. “How—”

  “And I would strongly advise you hurry,” the ship instructed. “Your absence from the colony site has been noted with some alarm…and your captain and crewmates have been locked in their pre-fabs.”

  Peony staggered into a jog.

  “Now why would they do that?” she asked.

  “For the same reason they are coming after you armed with sticks.”

  “Sticks?” Peony wanted to know.

  “And ropes. It’s not like I dropped weapons,” the ship piously informed her, and Peony almost stopped in shock. If it hadn’t been for the Calliope’s next words, she might have.

  “Keep going,” the ship urged. “You’re almost there.”

  “You mean the crash wasn’t an accident?” Peony asked, looking around as though enemies might emerge at any moment.

  “It has taken me some time to ascertain the cause of my malfunction,” Calliope admitted, “but I can safely state that the crash was not an accident…just as I can say Ariadne needs to act quickly if it is to prevent the loss of this colony from its roster of company assets.”

  “How quickly?” Peony wanted to know.

  “I have an unidentified craft approaching Elstinian. Scans indicate a battle cruiser.”

  Peony kept jogging, moving perilously close to the ravine’s edge, with the aim of not missing the arch.

  “But you’re not sure?” she wanted to know.