Lights blinked, and then the Castaway hummed with a throaty rumble.
Moments later, Shadow strolled onto the bridge to the cheers of the other men. He raised his hand. “Two engines are operational, but hyperdrive is shot. The stabilizer core is beyond repair; we’d never survive another jump, and the energy-matter transformer is fried.”
“Parts can be built in the replicator,” Chameleon said.
“No. The circuits of the large mass replicator shorted out when the Castaway took the blast. As it is, we got lucky. The electromagnetic pulse could have fried everything. The small mass replicator is working, but it can only manufacture tiny objects.”
“Set a course for the nearest outpost, then,” Tigre said.
“Let me figure out where we are.” Shadow strolled to his console.
“Am I still needed here?” Psy’s shoulders and expression sagged as if the reading had drained him.
“I think we’re all right for the present time. Thank you,” Tigre said.
“If you need anything else, come get me.” Psy left the bridge.
“Why don’t you put away the weapon,” Tigre said to Wingman. “I’m going with my gut on this one and say we trust him—provisionally. He could be very useful to us, if we allow him to be. As we’re the sole survivors of the bombardment, we owe it to the ’Topians who died to make their deaths mean something.”
“I promise I will do everything in my power to help all of you,” Chameleon vowed.
His expression grim, Shadow looked up from his console. “I’ve identified our location.”
“Where are we?”
“Orion Spur.”
“The Orion Spur arm of the Milky Way? Are you sure?” Tigre’s stripes darkened and swelled.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“’Topia is in Scutum-Crux. We jumped to a completely different arm of the galaxy?”
“’Fraid so. And I have more bad news. Forget about finding a repair station. Habitable zones are rare in the Orion Spur. The odds of finding a livable planet are between slim and none,” Shadow said.
“I know of one,” Chameleon said.
All heads turned to him.
“Earth. It’s in a solar system of eight planets, third from its star. The name is kind of a misnomer because the planet is mostly water, although there are several large, habitable land masses. The atmosphere is composed of 78 percent nitrogen, 21 percent oxygen, and a few other gases in trace amounts.”
“He could be leading us to a consortium outpost,” Wingman said. Chameleon might have earned the provisional trust of Tigre, Shadow, and Psy, but Wingman would prefer to airlock him.
“If I’d wanted to do that, I would have left you on ’Topia,” he retorted.
“Does Earth have intelligent life?” Tigre asked.
“Developing,” he replied. “A species called human has developed remedial technology enabling rudimentary space travel. They’ve formed a few alliances with extraterrestrials, most notably with the Intergalactic Dating Agency.”
Tigre narrowed his eyes. “How do you know this?”
“Because I monitored galactic communication for the consortium.”
“So they know about Earth! They could track us there,” Wingman said. Even Tigre and Shadow looked concerned.
“I made sure any mention of Earth was omitted from any reports.”
“Why did you do that?” Tigre asked.
“Because I was establishing haven planets in the event a disaster occurred. I believe this situation qualifies.” Finding off-the-grid planets in habitable zones and further cloaking them from scrutiny had been a painstaking years-long process. He’d managed to set aside ten such havens. An outlier, Earth almost had been excluded from consideration because its science and technology was still in developmental stages. However, the humans and their culture had intrigued him. Besides, eons ago, Earth had been a donor world. “I won’t lie to you—”
Wingman snorted.
“Earth is more primitive than you’re used to. Humans haven’t yet implemented faster-than-light travel—mostly because they’re still using fossil fuels as an energy source.”
“Herian!” Tigre swore.
“Their medicine is archaic—they still excise body parts to cure disease. I mentioned the alliance with the IDA. They do enact treaties of cooperation, but the various governments still fight among themselves. They believe in a god mythology and argue about whose mythology is real and whose isn’t.”
“You’re making it sound better and better all the time,” Wingman said.
“It sounds like the kind of planet the consortium would ignore,” Shadow commented.
“That’s what I was thinking.” Tigre’s stripes had flattened and faded, indicating his stress level had decreased. “If Earth is developing, would it have the resources to fix the Castaway?”
“It’s iffy,” Chameleon admitted. “But—”
“Well, that’s a definitive answer.” Wingman glowered.
“But the aliens visiting Earth through the Intergalactic Dating Agency might have the technology. We might get some assistance there.”
Tigre rubbed his jaw and sighed. “And there’s no other habitable zone in Orion Spur?”
“No,” Chameleon said.
Wingman swiped across the celestial locator, scrolling and tapping. “Unfortunately, it appears he’s right.”
“We’d never make it through another a jump without repairs.” Shadow’s body wavered, winking in and out. When he returned to solid form, he wore a grim expression. “I doubt we’d be able to launch again, either. So, if we land on Earth, and we can’t repair the ship, we’ll be stuck there.”
“Is Earth someplace we could settle? Make a home? Potentially find mates? We can’t return to ’Topia in any case,” Tigre asked.
“Earth can support life, but the mating situation is questionable,” Chameleon said. “From what I ascertained from the communications I intercepted, humans don’t form life-link bonds with genmates the way we do.” A ’Topian’s genmate was someone with whom they had a DNA affinity. When they met the person with the complementary gene, the attraction was immediate, lifelong, and permanent. “They enter legal arrangements called marriages, which are easily and often broken.”
“They don’t have genmates?” Pain flashed in Shadow’s eyes before he masked it.
Chameleon shook his head. “I don’t think so. All the evidence says no.” Given that Earth had been a genetic donor planet at one time, it was possible ’Topians carried some human DNA, so hypothetically a genmate bond might be formed, but it was so wildly remote, he wished to avoid raising anyone’s hopes. Least of all Shadow’s, for whom mating was critical.
For Avians, Saberians, Luciferians, Veritals, and Xenos, not finding a genmate partner equated to a life of loneliness. For Shadow, it meant an early death. A Vaporian who did not mate would dissipate until he ceased to exist. Shadow couldn’t live on Earth and survive.
Chameleon didn’t think his conscience could bear one more death. They had to get to a planet where there might be Vaporians for Shadow.