Hope rose. “Can you tell if anyone is inside it?” A lack of response didn’t necessarily mean no one occupied it.
“Janek can determine that as soon as he initiates the override.”
“Initiating override now.” Janek’s fingers flew across his console, typing as one might on a keyboard, though she saw no keys. Then he dragged one finger to the left.
A long moment passed. Then another.
Shaking his head, he mumbled something under his breath and repeated the motions.
Minutes ticked past.
Eliana bit her lip, desperately wanting to ask what the holdup was. But maybe there was no holdup. Maybe this was just how long it took to zip messages back and forth through space.
“Janek?” Dagon queried.
Or maybe not.
The comms officer released a huff of frustration. “The pod isn’t accepting the override code.”
“Hail it,” Dagon commanded.
Janek worked whatever magic he did at his station. “Occupant of the escape pod, this is Communications Officer Janek of the Ranasura. Please respond.”
Eliana held her breath.
Silence reigned.
“Occupant of the escape pod, this is Communications Officer Janek of the Ranasura, a Segonian vessel in good standing with the Aldebarian Alliance. We have picked up your distress signal and wish to render aid. Please respond.”
More silence.
Eliana wondered if that might be because he spoke Segonian. “If one of my friends is in the pod, she may not understand you. Five of us only have—or had—translators you fit in your ear.” The Lasarans had tried to surgically implant permanent translators in each of them, but the virus that had usurped the Immortal Guardians’ immune system had rejected the implants, quickly and painfully forcing them out. “I lost mine during the attack. Maybe they did, too.”
Janek repeated his greeting in Segonian, then English, Lasaran, and a fourth language that didn’t sound familiar.
“What language is that?” she asked Dagon softly.
“Alliance Common. On some planets, translation implants and earpieces are quite expensive, so a common language was devised for any who can’t afford one but nevertheless wish to be able to communicate with alien races.”
“Oh.”
Janek still received no response.
“Maybe the person in the pod doesn’t know how to respond,” she suggested. The gifted ones from Earth could probably figure it out. They were much more tech savvy than the immortals who’d accompanied them on the voyage. Most Immortal Guardians were a lot older than even the great-grandparents on Earth and were just as likely to be confounded by new technology, something that drove their Seconds to affectionately bestow “old fart” monikers upon them.
Judging by Janek’s expression, he might give Eliana and her fellow immortals similar nicknames. “If you wish to respond,” he instructed the occupant, “touch your finger to the flashing yellow light on the pod’s command console and hold it while speaking.”
More silence.
“If you are injured and unable to move, you may activate voice commands by speaking the pod’s unique identifier number, then saying initiate voice command. The identifier number should be prominently displayed on the ceiling of the pod.”
When even that generated nothing, Eliana looked up at Dagon. “Maybe they’re afraid to respond. I risked a hell of a lot by trusting you. For all I knew, you could have been Gathendiens posing as good guys. Whoever is in that pod may not be willing to take that risk.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you suggest?”
“May I speak to whoever it is? If it’s one of my friends from Earth, hearing my voice will reassure her.”
He motioned to Janek’s station. “If you believe it will help.”
Eliana moved to stand beside Janek. “What do I do?”
“When I press this, speak your message.” He touched a finger to his screen, which she could now see illuminated multiple windows that showed a map, some kind of wavy lines that jumped whenever he spoke, and text she recognized as Segonian.
He nodded to her.
“Hi,” she said, greeting the escape pod. “This is Eliana. If you were on board the Kandovar with me, I want to assure you that it is safe to respond. The Segonians are allies of the Lasarans and are one hundred percent trustworthy. They rescued me and now wish to rescue you. So if you’re able to, please respond.”
She held her breath, hoping to hear Simone or Ava or any of her friends express their relief at having been found.
But that hope dissipated as seconds, then minutes, passed in silence.
She looked at Dagon.
“Perhaps the pod is empty,” he suggested.
Or perhaps the person in the pod was dead. If the override code on the pod was malfunctioning, other things might be malfunctioning, too. Crucial things, like the life support system.
But Eliana couldn’t bring herself to voice the possibility, as though just saying it aloud might make it true. So she nodded. “How long will it take to reach it?”
Dagon looked at Galen.
“It’s moving away from us, so it will take longer. My current estimate is six days.”
Dagon frowned.
“What?” she asked.
He turned toward Janek. “It’s only six days away. Why are we only now picking up the pod’s distress signal?”
Janek glanced at Eliana briefly, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” she blurted, stomach sinking. “You do know. You just don’t want to upset me.”
He grimaced, confirming she had guessed correctly. “I can only surmise that whatever malfunction prevented the pod from accepting the override code is also affecting other systems and limiting the reach of the signal.”
So she wasn’t just being paranoid. The malfunction could have spread to other systems.
Eliana hated the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed her then, hated knowing there might be nothing she could do to save her friends, that they could die out there, lost and alone.
In the past, there had always been something she could do when faced with tough situations. There had always been actions she could take to overcome whatever difficulties arose. If vampire populations increased at an alarming rate, leaving Immortal Guardians who hunted alone facing numbers they couldn’t conquer single-handedly, she and her brethren could hunt in pairs to alleviate the threat. If she were severely injured and unable to contact her Second, she could do as she had done with Adaos and find an alternate blood source that would give her the strength needed to seek shelter. If some asshole intent on launching Armageddon managed to nab some Immortal Guardians he intended to torture and kill, she, her immortal brethren, and the human network that aided them could descend upon the enemy’s base en masse and wreak bloody fucking havoc, delivering death to their enemy and freeing her friends.
And if she found herself alone, floating out in space in nothing but a suit, she could choose to trust the deep voice that spoke to her, offering sanctuary.
Hell, she had even managed to help her hunting partner Nick finally get together with his next-door neighbor just by inviting Kayla to kick back and relax with them one night.
There had always been some way Eliana could try to resolve things.