She shook her head. “No, not as far as I can tell.”
“Good. I'll let the captain know. We'll be relying on you a lot, Stella,” continued Kanpei as he went to leave the chamber. “We may be involved in some battles when we get to Earth.”
“No problem.” Stella's blonde ponytail spilled over her shoulder as she nodded. Her cream-colored jumpsuit glowed eerily in the darkened chamber, her svelte form sinking into the plush cushion of her chair. “The system is running well. Cleo and I performed maintenance on it just last month, so I expect we'll have no trouble with it, even in the heat of battle.”
“Very well. Let us know if you sense anything out there,” said Kanpei, preparing to shut the hatch.
“What are we doing out that way? Who are we fighting, that is?” she asked just as Kanpei was leaving. “I heard the Captain's announcement, but it still doesn't make sense to me.”
Kanpei leaned against the wall, his hand on the thick, metallic hatch. “We're... going out there to assist the Earthlings. There's been an attack. I don't know much about the enemy, except that... they're not human.”
Stella nodded, but the cryptic look on her face betrayed her lack of understanding. “Wait, you mean, like, aliens? Real aliens?”
“That's right.”
“And... we're going to help the people of Earth fight against them?”
Kanpei nodded. “That's more or less the gist of it.”
“But,” continued Stella, “what about that barrier hanging around the Earth? The Solar Reef? Why don't they just hide behind that thing like they always do?”
The Solar Reef. It was a massive device sent into Earth orbit, and for centuries, it'd been the only thing standing between the Earth and the space-born. It had been launched nearly three-hundred years ago, when the human race decided to embrace peace and banish all of the violent individuals to space. It was intended to keep the exiled humans off of Earth and to stave off any of their attacks. To that end, it'd been successful. Over the years many groups of pirates and nomads had run against it, attempting to break through it to get to Earth. They'd all failed however, and some had even died in the attempt. Kanpei knew embarrassingly little about how it operated, except that it was a massive, metallic structure fitted with powerful mirrors. The mirrors, he'd been told, harnessed the sun's rays and magnified them into a concentrated field which was powerful enough to disintegrate the hull of even the hardiest vessel. It was a powerful deterrent, and he was unsure of how the aliens had managed to bypass it and attack Earth.
“I'm not sure what's become of it. Perhaps it malfunctioned, or it's been destroyed. At this stage, details are few, I'm afraid. I'm sure we'll get the full scoop as we get closer to Earth,” he said. With that, he took his leave, sealing the hatch and leaving Stella to work in perfect silence.
Next, Kanpei sought out Barnaby, the Bosun. He found him milling about outside the mess hall, his face still warped into a scowl. “Well, what'll we need for this voyage, Barnaby?” asked Kanpei, peering into the hall.
The mess hall was fairly large, with room enough for the entire crew, and then some, to eat their meals. Two meals were served aboard Methuselah per day, and the crewmen drew lots, eating in shifts so that the ship would never remain unmanned. All meals were prepared by a small staff, which was headed by cook Horace Stierman. Horace was an older man, hard of hearing and, by some accounts, somewhat senile. His tastes tended towards the bizarre, and complaints about the food were not uncommon. As Kanpei poked his head in and spoke to Barnaby, the kitchen staff could be heard working loudly to prepare the evening meal.
The Bosun snorted. “What voyage? You mean our humanitarian suicide mission? Why, I don't even know what we're going to be up against, so how could I possibly know what we're in need of?”
“So, I take it you'll be leaving the ship when we arrive at Anvil Station, then?” mused Kanpei, tapping his foot against the metallic walls.
Barnaby pursed his lips and looked away. “I... I never said that.”
“Oh,” continued the Quartermaster, a hand on his hip. “You mean you'll be staying on with us, despite your distaste for our current mission? Well, if that's the case, then you'd better get to work. The lives of the crew are in your hands. I'll place an order for anything you think we might need. And maybe an order for a few bottles of Anvil Station's famous rotgut, too. I won't bat an eyelash. Providing that you put together a comprehensive list, of course.”
The Bosun chortled. “Rotgut, you say? It'll take a bit more than some cheap liquor to get me motivated,” he said, waving his hand. Apparently the old Bosun, who was rather fond of drink, quickly reconsidered however. “I think we're only in need of our standard supplies. A few spare engine parts, some fuel. Gene gave me a list of foods we'll be needing. Horace wrote it all down.” He handed Kanpei a few hand-written pages. “There's some weird shit on those lists there. I think the poor old fool has had it.” Barnaby cleared his throat. “Anyhow, just how many bottles of said rotgut might be in store, do you think?”
Kanpei snickered. “A couple. If you perform your duties and all goes well, I may be feeling especially charitable when next we visit the station.”
Barnaby gave a nod. “Yes, very well. I'll be staying behind here in the mess hall. The meal is very nearly ready.”
“I'll be down shortly myself. Thanks.” Kanpei began for the bridge.
All throughout the ship the air was marked with tension. There was an understanding among the crew now that Methuselah was headed into battle. Though she'd won many a fight in her years, and was known as “The Undying” in many corners for her utter resilience in the face of a threat, Kanpei couldn't help but be wary. The aliens had reportedly done something which even Methuselah herself would never dare attempt; they'd broken through the Solar Reef. There was no telling what sort of frightful weapon they might've used to infiltrate Earth-space, or whether their technology was sufficiently advanced to simply bypass the barrier. All Kanpei knew was that the aliens, with absolutely no warning, had done something which the space-born, frenzied and powerful though they were, had not managed to do over the course of three-hundred years.
Kanpei returned to the bridge, where the Captain was ordering around a number of the pilots and gunners. “Make certain that you've got everything you need. We could head into battle at any moment, and we don't want to be caught unawares.” He turned to greet Kanpei.
“I've gathered the necessary information, sir,” began the Quartermaster. “Surrounding space is clear, I've a list of foods we need and our usual supplies ought to be sufficient.”
“Very good,” replied Faust. He stood before the main console and activated the holographic display. “Prepare a dispatch,” he said, turning to Kanpei. “I'm going to send a message to Kessler of Neo-Eurasia.”
The rest of the crew moved out of the recorder's view as Kanpei traced the signature of the Prime Minister's transmission and readied the dispatch. “We're all set to record, Captain,” said Kanpei, nodding.
Faust smiled into the display. “Hello, Mr. Kessler.” Taking a wide, firm stance, his hand lingered on the hilt of his beam saber as he continued. “I am Alberich Faust of the vessel Methuselah. It is after no little consideration that I send you this dispatch. After weighing your request for aid, I have decided to assist you. My loyal crew and this ship will repel your attackers, provided that some few conditions are met when the job is through. Firstly, I expect a hefty sum for my work. Food, fuel and things of that nature. When all is done we can negotiate on the particulars of this exchange. Of considerably more importance however, is my second condition.” Faust grinned darkly.
Kanpei listened closely as the Captain continued. What's he going to ask for now? They haven't got any weapons to give us...
“My other condition is that, upon successfully repelling the alien menace, you are to offer me and my entire crew permanent residency on Earth. I expect that you will invite your saviors with open arms, and that me and my men will be fre
e to settle on the Earth if we so choose.”
What in the world? Kanpei was astonished at the request. The Earthlings were in a tight spot and were not in a position to protest the Captain's offer for aid, no matter how unreasonable his demands. Nonetheless, he wondered if the Earthlings would possibly assent to such a thing. To reintroduce members of the space-born into Earthly society would be unthinkable.
Faust settled into his command chair and glared into the screen. “You have my terms, Mr. Kessler. Adieu.” The screen flickered off and, like a high-speed message in a bottle, the ship's transmitter shot the dispatch out into space.
Murmurs radiated around the command center. The crew were evidently pleased with these conditions, and could be heard to wonder what it might be like to settle on Earth, or whether they'd accept such a thing if it were offered.
“Sir?” said Kanpei, stepping forward. “Do you think... do you think that Earth will really cooperate with such terms?”
The Captain stroked his chin and gave a weak shrug. “There's an old saying, Mr. Kanpei. 'Beggars can't be choosers'. When Earth fell to its knees and began to grovel for our help, they lost the ability to negotiate. They will either accept my terms-- which I expect they will-- or they will perish.”
“Well, I'm sure many in the crew will be happy to hear of this potential offer. You might even manage to win over a few of the nay-sayers.”
“Potentially,” said Faust. “I'll make an announcement during the evening meal. And you, Mr. Kanpei?” he continued with a grin. “Do you foresee yourself in a cozy little Earth cottage when this mission is through?”
Kanpei laughed. “No, I don't believe so. Methuselah is my home and I've been on her so long I can't imagine what it'd be like to settle down.”
Faust nodded. “I, too, belong in space. To voyage is to live. But I don't begrudge anyone aboard this vessel the chance at a comfortable life on Earth. I look forward to Kessler's reply.”
A warning appeared on Kanpei's console, a number of red lights flashing. It was an all too familiar sight to him; an indicator from Stella that an enemy was in the vicinity. “Sir,” began Kanpei as he scrolled through the data and attempted to ascertain the nature of the threat, “Stella's found something.”
The Captain perked up. “Send it to my display.”
With the press of a button, Kanpei forwarded the details to the main console. A massive grid materialized across the holographic display, with a small, blinking Methuselah at its center. There were numerous smaller blips to be found throughout as well, likely anomalies or debris picked up by the S.A.L.V.O. The object of Stella's dispatch wasn't hard to find, however. A large, solid dot, moving at incredible speed from port side, could be seen on the display. It was still a fair distance out, but with every passing moment, the gap was rapidly closing. Though he hadn't run any sort of calculations, Kanpei knew that, whatever it was, it would be upon them within minutes.
Faust studied the screen for a moment, completely solemn, as he devised his orders. Pressing a button at his console, he rang Stella. “Stella, this thing on radar, what is it?”
Her voice wavered as she replied. “I-- I don't really know, Captain. It may be one large object or several smaller ones moving in close proximity to one another. The signature it's giving off is strange, and it's moving so fast it's hard for me to get a clear picture.” It wasn't often that Stella struggled in her readings. Her talents were such that she routinely outperformed the ship's native radar systems. That she was having difficulty identifying the oncoming object was not a little worrisome.
Faust meditated on the situation at hand, locking his teeth around his knuckle. Finally, after he'd weighed his options, he jumped to his feet and barked out his orders into the intercom. “Attention! We are on high alert. Man your battle stations at once. Pilots to the hangar, awaiting my order. Gunners are to prime their weapons. We will engage at my command!” A few locks of his hair fell out of place, the long, black strands streaming down along the sides of his face. He grasped the helm positioned before the command chair and gave it a mighty spin. Methuselah could be felt to shift to port side sharply, its metal body groaning slightly as it turned in the void. Gripping the helm and steadying the ship, Faust turned to Kanpei. “The main cannon. Make sure it's ready. I don't know what's coming. It may be a fluke, but I won't be caught off guard.”
Kanpei nodded, activating the main cannon module with a number of keystrokes. His display featured a reading of the cannon's readiness, measuring the amount of time and energy before it would be fully functional. Methuselah's was a massive cannon, positioned between the bridge and the bulk of her body. It commanded great power, but required some degree of priming before it could be used at full capacity, due to its enormous energy demands. In the heat of battle, when the cannon was fired multiple times, it was not uncommon for the lights to flicker or for non-vital systems to power down as the ship sought to route all available energy to the cannon feed. “We're at fifty percent, and quickly gaining, sir. I think it'll be at full power by the time this thing arrives.”
“Good. When it comes within reach,” ordered Faust, baring his teeth, “I want you to lock onto it and blow it out of the sky. We'll teach them, whoever they are, that they don't simply rush my ship without warning.”
CHAPTER 3
The crew dashed into action. Pilots stormed the hangar, hopping into their cockpits and performing their pre-launch operations. Gunners primed their weapons and studied the radar displays at their consoles, ready to launch a barrage as soon as the Captain issued his orders. The entire ship was mobilized within moments, and her Captain, brooding at the helm, watched with bated breath as the object drew nearer.
Through the intercom, Stella filled in the bridge on the object's status. “Forty seconds till it comes into range,” she said. “Thirty-nine... no, thirty-three now.” Her voice was tremulous, as though she couldn't understand the data that was pouring in. Something wasn't right.
“What's it made of?” asked the Captain.
“Metallic... exceptionally dense. It could be an asteroid fragment, but somehow I doubt it. It's... it's machined, I feel quite sure. But it's also unlike anything I've ever seen. I can't pinpoint the material or its exact speed, and there's only a faint energy signature to be found. If it's a ship, it's traveling at massive speed on a subtle power source. It's moving so quickly it's as though it's skipping through space, making huge leaps. It makes no sense.”
“Steady,” growled Faust, clutching the helm and keeping the ship in place. “The cannon, Mr. Kanpei?”
“We're at ninety-eight now, Captain. Ready to fire, awaiting your command.”
Faust scoured the display, watching the gap close further. He peered out the massive window into space, trying to pinpoint it with his own eyes. Space proved empty, however. “Is it... in your sights?” he asked the Quartermaster. “If so, you have permission to fire.”
Kanpei shook his head, baffled. “It should be... if the S.A.L.V.O is to be believed, it's close enough, but I can't see it yet, sir.”
Suddenly, the object vanished from radar. Stella gasped as the display went blank, the S.A.L.V.O unit failing to pick up any trace of the thing that had only seconds prior been barreling at the ship at breakneck speed. Those on the bridge exclaimed in confusion. Before disappearing, it'd been a stone's throw away from the tip of Methuselah's nose. It should have been plainly visible to the naked eye.
“Stella!” yelled Faust through the intercom, suspecting a system malfunction or an error on the part of the navigator. “Where's it gone?”
She could be heard to pant as she scoured space for any trace of the thing. “S-sir,” she finally said after searching in vain, “it's gone. Completely.”
Faust stomped against the floor, his dense, black boot sending an echoing thud throughout the tense command center. “What do you mean? An object that large can't have possibly... even if it had somehow concealed its appearance with a cloaking mechanism, it would be unable t
o evade detection with the S.A.L.V.O. Look again, Stella!”
Stella continued to search for a trace of the thing in every conceivable direction, but found only silence. “I'm sorry, sir. It's disappeared... I can't explain it. It was there just a moment ago, you saw it!”
The Captain spent a few moments pacing across the bridge, commanding his men to trawl space with the ship's native radar systems. This, too, turned up no trace of the object. When nearly a quarter of an hour had passed and nothing had registered on either of their detection systems, the high alert was cancelled.
“We seem to have picked up an anomaly on radar, and will end the high alert for now. We are, as of this moment, still at an elevated alert, so essential personnel are to remain at their posts. Gunners, too. Until we've arrived at Anvil Station, I want at least one group of pilots ready to fly at all times,” he announced through the intercom. “That is all.” Faust leaned against his console and sighed. “Mr. Kanpei, keep an eye on things. If anything should happen, I'll be out at once. For the time being however, I'll be in my quarters.”
“Yes, sir. I may head to the mess hall for a bit, if that's all right,” replied Kanpei, taking the helm as Faust ambled off to his room.
The Captain paused in the hall. “Very well. Leave Victor in charge, then. Hurry up, though.”
As the Captain exited, the crew in the command center all turned to Kanpei, their eyes wide. “Is it still out there?” asked one of them, a sailor named Thomas. “Why can't we see it?”
The whole situation gave Kanpei a sinking feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it had really been some anomalous reading, an error. But until it had simply disappeared from the radar, it had certainly seemed real. “I don't know what to tell you,” he replied flatly. “Keep your wits about you, in case it resurfaces.”
His stomach growled. Too busy with the dispatches earlier in the day to partake in the morning meal, Kanpei hadn't eaten in far too long. A dull ache pulsed within his skull. He summoned a mate by the name of Victor from his post and instructed him to take the helm momentarily. “Sorry to do this to you. I've only been at the helm a moment, but I'm going to the mess hall,” said Kanpei, stepping aside. “If anything should happen, let the Captain know at once. I won't be long. Ten or twenty minutes.”
A Memory of Violence Page 3
