Chains of Destiny

by Nick Webb

  Jake paused. “Money, I would think.”

  “Yes, but we’re a dangerous customer. If the Imperials found out about them dealing with us, Admiral Trajan would send a fleet to whatever port these pirates frequent and punish them. Is it really in their best interest to deal with us?”

  She was right. But unfortunately, there was no other source of neodymium around. At least, no sources of already-mined and refined metal.

  “And Captain,” she continued, “If it’s neodymium we want, I suggest we try to get in contact with my people. I’m sure there’s a few mining ships with the main flotilla that would have a store they’d be willing to sell us. As long as we hide our … less-than-pacifistic intentions.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “And how does one hide their-less-than pacifistic intentions sitting on the bridge of a warship?”

  She slumped into her chair further, embarrassed. “No, you’re right. Stupid idea.”

  He softened his face, but resisted the urge to wink. “Sorry, Ensign. Thank you for your input—I’m glad you spoke up. You raise a good point, we need to find out what the pirates have to gain by dealing with us. And Willow,” he looked back at her, using her first name in the hopes she’d feel a little less alienated, “If you can think of any other way your people can help, I’m all ears. I know they’re pacifists and won’t fight alongside us, but if they could help us politically—I know they hold some clout in the Senate—then we would be indebted to them.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll give it some thought.” She brushed a lock of white hair out of her face and smiled.

  “Captain, they’re hailing us again,” said Ensign Falstaff.

  Jake glanced at Po with a raised eyebrow. “Impatient little buggers, aren’t they? On screen, Ensign.”

  Captain Volaski reappeared before them, but this time he was not alone. A woman stood by his side, stern, proud, and wearing no-nonsense, unadorned clothing. “Mercer, I’d like you to meet Velar. She’s plugged in to the world I’d like to take you to.” He looked at her and motioned towards the viewscreen.

  “Mercer,” she said in greeting. “What an honor to have a fleet Captain ask to visit my world.”

  Jake thought it odd she phrased it in that way. He hadn’t yet asked to be taken to the world Volaski had spoken of, and he was not an Imperial fleet Captain, even if he was still by all appearances in the fleet, what with his navy-blue uniform and Imperial epaulettes.

  “Nice to meet you Velar. I’ve spoken with my officers and we would be honored to be taken to your world for trade. Might I ask the name of said world?”

  She maintained an inscrutable expression, neither smiling nor frowning. Just watching him. As if reading him, or waiting for Jake to say something she was expecting or looking to hear. “It is Destiny, Captain.”

  “I’m sorry, what is?” He squinted at her and turned his head slightly in misunderstanding.

  “My world. It is Destiny. At the far end of the Filmore Sector.”

  “Ah, I see,” he said, understanding what she’d meant. He’d never heard of such a planet. Then again, in addition to the Thousand Worlds of the Empire, there were hundreds of settled worlds that either had not fallen yet under the Empire’s sway, or were too far out of the way for the Empire to bother.

  Or perhaps, as the case was with a handful of worlds, it was simply too dangerous for even the Empire to attempt to subdue. Some pirate syndicates were notorious for laying mines, disguised as orbital debris. Several hapless Imperial battleships and dozens of merchant ships had been lost to mines over the years, and the Empire had finally given up certain worlds for good because of them.

  “You know it? You will come?” She said, expectantly.

  “I haven’t heard of it, actually. Is it a very populated world?”

  She shook her head. “Not really, no. Perhaps a few million people. The climate is not very hospitable in most latitudes. Dry and arid. But my family has lived there for six generations and it is home. You will come, then?”

  She seemed oddly insistent. But lacking a good reason to say no, Jake nodded. “We will come. I’m afraid we don’t have many Imperial credits to our name—I suspect the Empire has shut off our tab. But we have technology and other supplies your man on Destiny might find attractive. Send over the coordinates and we’ll be on our way.”

  “Before we leave, Captain, I should prepare you to go down to the surface. You can’t be seen looking like that.” She glanced down at his clothing. “Imperial uniforms are not in fashion on Destiny. You’re liable to get shot before taking a dozen steps there.”

  Jake looked down at his uniform, still smudged and blackened from the battle of the Nine. He hadn’t had it washed yet. A few spots of stray blood stained his leg and arms, and he wasn’t even sure if the blood was his or not. “Yeah, you might have a point there. But I wasn’t planning on going down to the surface. I’d prefer to do all the negotiating from the comfort of my bridge and receive the shipment in our fighter bay.”

  She shook her head and held up a hand. “No, Captain. On my world, you do not negotiate from afar. No one will deal with you unless you come to them and look in their eye and shake their hand. Flesh to flesh. No one will trust you enough to do business otherwise.”

  Jake glowered at her. “Well if that’s the case, why don’t they come up to my ship and they can look into my eye up here? Why does the handshake have to happen down on the surface?”

  “Because, Captain, you are the traveller. You are the one coming to our world, not the other way around. If our traders visited your world, we would expect to do no less than what we ask of you.”

  Jake paused to think, and finally nodded reluctantly. “Fine. We’ll go down.”

  “And don’t dress like you’re some city lubbers from Earth, either. You’ll stick out. You know what?” she nodded at him, as if trying to get him to mirror her motion, “Why don’t I come over there and guide your clothing selection. You have printers on board?”

  “Yeah, we have printers. But I think we’ll manage just—”

  Velar frowned at him—the first real facial expression she let through. “No, Captain Mercer, I insist. I will not take you to my planet and then have you draw attention to me and our supplier. It is unwise to draw attention to oneself on Destiny.”

  “Is it terribly dangerous?” Jake was becoming less and less convinced that he wanted to visit her world.

  “Not for those who blend in. Those that stick out are a target for pirates.” She glanced at Captain Volaski. “The less agreeable kind. Tell me, Mercer, can you receive our ship? It is not large.”

  She seemed absolutely determined to get on the Phoenix, and it bothered Jake. But they needed that neodymium. They would have to risk it, but he made a note to have Ben assign a security detail to the fighter bay while the ship was aboard.

  “Yes we can. Though give us two hours to prepare for your visit. We have just left the scene of a battle with the Imperials and we need to memorialize our dead.”

  Her brow furrowed in what Jake could have sworn was sympathy, but he still couldn’t quite read her emotions. “I understand. We will approach your bay in two hour’s time.”

  Jake folded his arms. “When you get off your ship, be unarmed. No need to give my security chief an aneurism. Will it be just you, or do you require an escort?”

  “I will come with Volaski, Captain, if that is alright with you.” She glanced to her right at Captain Volaski, who nodded as if giving permission. Jake wondered what their relationship was.

  “As you wish. Our tactical officer will relay instructions to your navigator for approaching the fighter bay. Mercer out.”

  Jake knew Ben would not be happy, and he was right. The moment Volaski and Velar disappeared from the screen Ben marched over to the command station where Jake still stood next to his chair. “Captain, a word?”

  “Sure, Manuel,” said Jake, using Ben’s callsign in an attempt to lighten his mood. Judging by Ben’s face, he fail
ed miserably.

  “In your ready room?”

  The ready room. He’d still not even set foot in it since Captain Watson died. He’d been able to use the captain’s chair in the bridge—he could hardly avoid it with his bridge duties—but somehow he’d managed to avoid setting foot in that other space. It reminded him of the cold, blue bodies lying in the makeshift morgue next to sickbay. All those bodies—all the ones they still hadn’t had a chance to eject out the airlocks for a proper space burial. Not even a chance to have the memorial planned for earlier that day.

  Jake followed his friend back to the hallway that led to the ready room, the bridge conference room, and the astrometric chart room, where the four walls of the tiny amphitheater turned into a scalable star map that helped the Captain navigate the known boundaries of the settled galaxy. Just over 1000 worlds had been settled by humans since the dawn of the space age, though dozens, perhaps hundreds more were colonized less conspicuously. Perhaps a world with a less ideal climate or atmospheric pressure or gravity would be passed over by average settlers, only to be scooped up by other groups more interested in escaping attention from civilized society.

  As they entered the hallway, Jake looked back and motioned Megan to join them. Po was good at defusing Ben. Jake just tended to egg him on—a habit he would have to lose if he wanted to stay friends with the man as his Captain. She in turn motioned to her deputy she’d chosen, a young lieutenant from engineering. Lieutenant … Jake had already forgotten his name.

  “Fitzpatrick, you have the bridge. Don’t crash us into anything, please,” she said as she followed Jake out the door.

  “Jake, what are you thinking?” he said as soon as he walked through the conference room door. “This is insane! You’re inviting pirates onto the ship? What the hell are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”

  As Po walked through the door she pointed at Ben. “You watch your mouth, Commander. Remember you’re talking to the Captain—”

  Jake held up a hand, interrupting her. “No, it’s ok Megan. When it’s us three I don’t want you guys thinking you have to salute me or some shit like that. It’s just like old times. I can’t do this without you, and I hope you feel the same about me. We’re in this together. Ben,” he continued, looking his friend in the eye, “I understand—”

  “No, I don’t think you do. Those people are murderers, Jake. They stalk the shipping lanes, waiting for unsuspecting merchants, and when they find an easy target, they pounce. If the merchant is lucky, they just get taxed,” Ben said, making air-quotes around the word “taxed,” “worst case, they get taken as slaves back to one of their hideouts. Actually, I guess worst case is they die, but who’s keeping track at this point? Obviously not you. And if—”

  “Ben, we need that neodymium. Bernoulli thinks we can have our short-range gravitic shifting capabilities restored within a few days of getting some. Just think of the advantage we would have over the Imperials if we had that!”

  “We’ll get it somewhere else! Jeez, Jake, why now? What’s the rush? Let’s lie low for a bit and get our bearings. Why do you feel the need to make a mad dash to some god-forsaken pirate infested rock just to get a few days head start on—”

  Jake scowled and began pacing the room as he argued back. “Because, if we just sit around with our thumb up our ass, Trajan will find us. He’ll find us sooner or later—you don’t just hide a Freedom-class battlecruiser under a sheet. And when he finds us again, I want to be ready. And if that means facing down a few pirates in the meantime, well then I say bring ‘em on.” He turned back to face him, arms folded across his chest.

  Ben smirked. “Heh, bring it on indeed, Jake. Is that what you were telling yourself when you kicked the snot out of that drunk bastard on the shipyards?”

  “As I recall you had a hand in that,” Jake retorted icily.

  “Yeah, and if I hadn’t, you’d be either dead or in a full body cast.”

  Megan took a step between them. “And if he were dead Ben, then so would we all. We’re here right now because of him. If we had have truly surrendered a few days ago, we’d all be dead by now. Don’t deny it,” she added as she saw his look of scorn.

  Ben sat down in the captain’s chair and fingered the armrest. Jake felt a sudden twinge of guilt—it should have been his friend who owned that chair. “You don’t know that. We’d already lost most of the Nine by then. Trajan had already won his grand victory. The Truth and Reconciliation Committee would have demanded that we be released and stripped of our commissions or something. They wouldn’t have let us be executed.”

  Jake shook his head and continued pacing. “No, you’re wrong. Doubly wrong. First of all, Trajan would have just executed us then and there without even consulting the Committee. Remember, Senator Galba, the head of the Commission, was on the Fidelius when it blew, along with half of the other members. Trajan was behind it—I know he was—meaning not only was he willing to kill all of us, but he was willing to kill a bunch of senators to get to us. Second, take a look at it from the Commission’s point of view. In their eyes, the Resistance just destroyed the Fidelius and commandeered nine Imperial battleships. We’re war criminals to them, the symbol of their misplaced trust. They wouldn’t let us live. Don’t you see the brilliance of Trajan’s plan? He not only destroyed the Resistance, he destroyed our reputation. The Commission hates us now, and probably half the population of Earth, probably most of the citizens of the Empire, and the entire Senate—remember, we just killed three or four of their own.”

  He took a breath, satisfied that he’d seemed to shut Ben up momentarily.

  “And furthermore, if we don’t start getting out into the settled worlds and making allies, we’re not going to last a month out here. We’ve got food, sure. But we’ll run out. Water? Yeah, we’ve got purifiers and recirculators, but what if something goes wrong in one of the battles in the weeks ahead and we spring a leak? Where are we going to resupply our railgun ordnance? And anti-matter? That shit don’t come cheap. We need allies, Ben. And these people are as good a place to start as any—didn’t you see the way they charged the Sphinx? These people got a bone to pick with those bastards, and that’s the kind of ally I want on my side.”

  Jake stopped pacing and looked down at Ben again, who only pursed his lips.

  “Jake, he’s just being prudent,” said Megan, leaning up against the wall. “We agree with you. He’s just saying, and I’m just saying, that we need to be careful.”

  Ben leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “No, Megan, that’s not what I was saying. I was saying it was an incredibly reckless and stupid decision to bring that ship on board. Have you even thought about how the Sphinx found us? And then how the pirates just shifted in out of nowhere? How fortunate! Do you really think those were just coincidences?”

  Jake stroked his chin. “No, I don’t. You’re right, we should be cautious. But I stand by what I said. We need to make allies. And those weren’t fake ion beams those pirates were firing at the Sphinx. They were shooting to kill, Ben.”

  Ben swore. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  Megan moved over to the console at the head of the conference table. She tapped a few buttons and spoke without looking up. “The ship is nearly here. Jake? How do you want to do this? Do you want to send me down there with a security contingent and meet this contact they have down on Destiny? I’m not much of a negotiator but I think I could hold my own.”

  Jake shook his head. “No, Megan. I want you with the ship. Ben and I will go.”

  “Oh, we will?” Ben said sarcastically.

  “I need you with me, buddy,” Jake tried to crack a smile and slapped Ben on the shoulder. Ben glowered at him. “Look, Ben, you’re the best. If for some reason things go to hell down there, there’s no one else I’d want at my side. Pick two special ops guys to go with us. And I’ve got one more person in mind,” he said, tapping the comm button on the console. “Ensign Ayala, please report to the bridge conference roo
m.”

  Megan and Ben both stared at him. “Captain?” Po said, looking at him askance. “Why Willow?”

  “Because she’s a Belenite. They’re highly respected throughout the Thousand Worlds. Hopefully beyond the Thousand Worlds. And,” he said with a grin, “it’s superstition out on some of these worlds that if you’re inhospitable to a Belenite guest that ill events will befall you.”

  “You really think these pirates are superstitious?” said Ben.

  Jake smiled as he walked out the door. “One can only hope.”

  ***

  Senator Demetrius Corsicanus Harrison Galba stretched out his leg in the cramped bunk of Willow Ayala’s tiny quarters. He judged the space to be no more than ten square meters. Not even a tenth the size of his second bathroom at the Senatorial Palace on Corsica. He sighed. The sacrifices he had to make in the service of the glorious Imperial Republic.

  But he’d had enough. Four days of doing nothing but wait was starting to gnaw at him. He was a man of action. A titan of the Empire. A man to be respected and not trifled with.

  He grimaced as he clipped his toenail. Dammit, he needed a surgeon. The blasted thing was ingrown.

  And he was most definitely not someone to just wait around for some Belenite to feed him news in bits and pieces. Not even an exotic, sexy Belenite like Willow. Gods, she made him horny. He rubbed his crotch just thinking about her.

  The Plan had gone astray. Trajan had miscalculated. The Resistance was supposed to be irrevocably crushed and discredited, clearing the way for the implementation of The Plan. But instead, the Phoenix had escaped, under the command of some rogue North American fighter pilot.

  But the Plan would continue. He knew that. The Emperor and Admiral Trajan would not let such an insignificant turn of events deter them from the grander plan in place. Old Earth was but a piece of it.

  And yet the Phoenix represented a dangerous variable. One out of their control. And he had to neutralize it. Too much was riding on The Plan to let one insignificant ship derail it.