Starship Freedom

by Daniel Arenson

  Bastian laughed. "My mistake."

  "I don't know why you and Mommy had to get divorced," Rowan said. "Why can't we be like before? Last year we had Christmas all together."

  Bastian remembered last Christmas. The tension. The angry looks. They had hidden it so well from Rowan. The marriage had fallen apart the next month.

  They rode the robotic horse toward the main gate. Snow swirled around the metal hooves. The guard, a scrawny private in an oversized coat, gave them a sullen look. He wasn't happy to be working on Christmas, especially not outside in the cold. But when he noticed the insignia on Bastian's shoulders, marking him an officer, the guard snapped to attention and saluted.

  Bastian returned the salute. He queried his MindLink for the guard's name. It hovered up before him. Private William Reynolds, third battalion, nineteen years old.

  "Merry Christmas, Private Reynolds," Bastian said. His breath frosted with every word.

  "Merry Christmas, sir. Nice horse."

  He seemed like a good kid. Too bad he was stuck here.

  Bastian didn't know everyone at Fort Liberty by name. Not without his MindLink. But he recognized many faces, maybe even most of them. Five thousand soldiers were stationed there—the entire Freedom Brigade.

  Of course, most of them were home now, relaxing by the fireplace with presents and candy canes. Lucky bastards. The base was a ghost town today.

  Bastian rode through the gate and across a snowy courtyard, passing by the armory, mess hall, and chapel. He dismounted his horse by the barracks where the troops lived. He held Rowan's hand, and they stepped into the concrete building.

  A stench hit his nostrils. He groaned.

  "Eww, it stinks here!" Rowan said. "Can we go to Bemidji now?"

  They kept walking down the hallway. Bastian waved his hand, trying to scatter the stench. He recognized the oily, meaty smell. He had smelled it on the hilltop.

  A voice rose from around a corner. "Careful, chief! You're going to snap off its leg."

  Bastian recognized the voice. Alice.

  Another voice rose behind the corner, deep and rumbling.

  "I told you, Alice, I'm not a chief. Just because I'm Native American doesn't automatically make me a chief."

  Bastian recognized that voice too. Charging Bear.

  A crack sounded.

  "Bear, careful!" Alice cried. "See? You banged its leg against the wall."

  "Lift your side higher," Bear said. "We need to pivot around the corner."

  "I am lifting it higher. It's not my fault I'm not a seven-foot freak like you."

  Bickering, Alice and Bear emerged around the corner. They were carrying the corpse of the giant spider.

  Bastian and Rowan stood in the corridor, staring.

  Rowan blanched. "Daddy … what is that?"

  "I wish I knew, Row."

  "It looks like a giant spider." The girl covered her eyes. "I'm scared."

  "Don't worry, Row, it's dead." Bastian glared at Alice and Bear. "Will you please carry that thing to the lab? It's stinking up the barracks."

  "We have a lab?" Alice said.

  Bastian nodded. "You know, the building in the back. White walls. Big red cross on the front."

  Alice tilted her head. "The infirmary?"

  "Yeah, part of it is a lab," Bastian said. "The room where they analyze our blood and urine samples."

  "Bas!" Alice adjusted her grip on the spider. "The lab where they do our drug tests isn't exactly equipped to study an alien lifeform."

  "A lab is a lab! Just take it there. Get it out of here. It's scaring my daughter. And it's stinking up our barracks."

  Grumbling, Alice and Bear carried the spider into the courtyard. The damn thing was the size of a horse. Luckily, so were Alice and Bear.

  Alice, the bear, and the spider, Bastian thought. Sounds like a children's book.

  Rowan was still covering her eyes. "Is the giant spider gone?"

  "It's gone, sweetie."

  She opened her eyes. "Daddy, was it an alien?"

  "The lab will find out."

  "The lab where they do your drug tests?"

  "A lab is a lab!" Bastian exclaimed. "Everyone's a critic. Come on, Row. It stinks here. Let's head to the commissary. They've got ice cream!"

  Rowan poked his belly. "Should you really be eating ice cream, Daddy?"

  He groaned. "It's muscles! I have big stomach muscles."

  Rowan giggled. "Daddy, you're silly and playing tricks."

  Good. She was giggling. At his expense, but still giggling. That beat the tears. The sound of her laughter, the sight of her smile—it made everything seem okay. Even with a giant spider on base, which had probably escaped from a Russian lab.

  They were sitting in the mess hall, eating peanut butter ice cream, when his MindLink rang.

  It was another call from the starship Freedom. It was labeled urgent.

  * * * * *

  "I told you, Dad, I'm not coming onto the Freedom for Christmas," Bastian said. "So stop calling."

  He stood in the mess hall, his ice cream forgotten. Rage pounded through him. The old man had not called him all year. And now he was pestering Bastian twice in one day.

  Amazingly, King was actually using his MindLink this time. Not a phone. An actual telepathic connection. Incredible. Commander James King, embracing new technology? A Christmas miracle! The old bastard was finally learning.

  Bastian's MindLink created a vivid hallucination of the commander. The old man seemed to be sitting in front of Bastian, right here in the mess hall. The implant crafted the hallucination from cameras and microphones aboard the starship Freedom, using artificial intelligence to fill out the blanks. The illusion was complete.

  Sitting at the table, face covered with ice cream, Rowan gasped. "Is that Pop Pop? Can I talk to him?"

  She couldn't see the apparition. The call was to Bastian's implant only.

  "Is that you, Rowan?" King said.

  "She can't hear you, Dad," Bastian said. "Only I can hear and see you. Hang on. I'll patch Rowan's MindLink into the call."

  King frowned. He rose from his seat, and his face flushed with anger. "You gave Rowan, a five-year-old girl, a brain implant?"

  "Calm down, old man. It's like giving kids a toy car these days. She has the kiddie implant. I can control it from my end. Hang on, I'm patching her in." He looked at Rowan. "Ready, sweetie?"

  The girl tapped her skull. A year ago, she had gotten the surgery. She used her implant to hallucinate cartoons and telepathically play with friends. An hour a day, that was her limit.

  "Ready!" she said.

  Bastian patched her in. At once, her brain received the signal and created the same hallucination that Bastian was having. Rowan too daydreamed James King, her grandfather, standing in the mess room.

  "Hi, Pop Pop! Want some ice cream?" She held out the bowl.

  "She still doesn't know that you can't share food through the MindWeb," Bastian explained.

  "I missed you, Rowie," said the hallucination. "Merry Christmas. I plan to come visit you real soon. As soon as I can."

  "Pop Pop, there's a giant spider here at Fort Liberty, and it stinks real bad, and my dad said he isn't fat!"

  The two talked for a moment. But King seemed distracted. The commander finally said, "Rowie, I gotta talk to Daddy for a sec, all right?"

  "Love you, Pop Pop!"

  "Love you too, sweetie." The commander turned toward Bastian. "I didn't call to keep bugging you about Christmas, son. I have news to share. Can we talk in private?"

  Bastian took Rowan off the line. The girl focused on eating ice cream. King talked for several moments. He described strange signals from Rubicon Space Station. A strange warning. The admiralty blowing him off, and the Freedom going into lockdown.

  Finally he played Bastian the Rubicon message.

  "Aliens are real, Beverly. Monsters are real. A fleet. An enemy fleet, heading to Earth. Tell the army! Tell them to get ready. I love you. I love—"<
br />
  A screech. Then silence.

  "Jesus," Bastian said.

  "I wanted to let you know," King said. "You serve in the Freedom Brigade. You might be down on Earth, but you're still part of the starship Freedom. It's probably nothing. But if there's trouble, you need to prepare."

  "Dad." Bastian gulped. "It's not nothing. I have news too."

  He talked for a while, describing finding the spider in the forest, Hannah Allenby dead inside a cocoon, and battling the alien.

  Yes, it is an alien, Bastian thought.

  "Before he died, the alien spoke a little," Bastian said. "The son of a bitch could speak English. He called his species the rahs. At first I thought it was some mutant created in a Red Dawn lab. But damn it, Dad. It's gotta be whatever blew up the Rubicon. Shit! Dad, is this for real? Are we dealing with actual aliens here?"

  "I don't know," King said. "This whole thing might just be an elaborate Red Dawn hoax. But I'm taking the threat seriously. Listen to me, Bastian. I need information on the specimen you've captured. It was likely a scout or a spy. This is a chance to learn about their biology before more arrive. I need you to send me photos of the alien, reports on its biology, all the details you can glean. Send them to my ship."

  Bastian nodded. "Way ahead of you. I've got the alien in the lab. My best people are studying it right now."

  Rowan looked up from her ice cream. She somehow managed to activate her MindLink on her own and leaped into the call. "Alice and Bear took the spider to where Daddy gets tested for drugs!"

  "Get off the line!" Bastian said, cutting her off again. He'd have to tinker with her chip's settings.

  Rowan giggled.

  "All right, son," King said. "I have duties to attend to. Continue your research on the alien. And if you speak to Colonel Holt, tell him everything. We've been trying to reach him from the Freedom, and we'll keep trying. Get your base on full alert! I know it's Christmas. But this is urgent. Recall the brigade."

  Bastian nodded. Colonel Harry "Hound Dog" Holt was the commander of Fort Liberty. He was a good man, honorable and brave, but he also had an ongoing feud with King. Something about being left on Earth while his brigade's old billets, located aboard the Freedom, were now a hotel. Bastian wasn't surprised that he was filtering King's calls.

  "I'll talk to Holt," Bastian said. "Goodbye, Dad. Stay safe."

  "Goodbye, son. Goodbye, Rowan. I love you."

  "Love you, Pop Pop!" Rowan said, waving.

  "How did you get back on the line?" Bastian said to the girl. She only giggled. The call ended.

  Well, this is certainly shaping up to be an interesting Christmas, Bastian thought.

  "Daddy," Rowan said, "I'm having fun. This is way better than Bemidji."

  Normally Bastian would laugh. Today he just stood there, somber. He wanted to feel the same old hatred toward his father. To let the rage consume him.

  You drove my mother to her death, he thought. You ruined our family. I hate you.

  The same old words. He had uttered them many times.

  They felt hollow now. The rage fizzled away. Maybe it was seeing King as a kindly grandfather, laughing with Rowan. Maybe it was the fear of the spiders. Maybe the pain of his mother's death was simply fading to a dull throb. Bastian didn't know.

  I used to love you so much, Dad. You were my hero. Like you were a hero to everyone on Earth. And now I need your guidance. Now I feel alone.

  He took a deep breath.

  He would call for help. He would muster the Freedom Brigade.

  * * * * *

  "Sir, this is Captain Bastian King, calling from Fort Liberty. I'm sorry to disturb you at Christmas."

  Bastian sat in his office. A hallucination of Colonel Holt appeared in the chair before him. The colonel was tucking into turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy. The feast appeared in the hallucination too—right on Bastian's desk. The MindLink even replicated the smell.

  "Nonsense, Bastian! Don't worry about it." Holt waved dismissively, then wiped his lips with a napkin. "I'm sorry that you're stuck on the base at Christmas. Bad luck."

  "Yeah. Bad luck." Bastian didn't feel like sharing that he had nowhere else to go. Not since Stacy had kicked him out. Right now there were more important matters. "Colonel, I have some news. It came from Commander King."

  Holt was preparing to bite into a dinner roll. He put the bread down. "Commander James King called, did he?" The colonel snorted. "I presume he didn't call to give us back our bunks in the starship Freedom, did he? No. I suppose it's much more important to run that minigolf course with the animatronic dragons."

  "Dinosaurs, sir. They're dinosaurs. You have to hit the golf ball between their legs."

  The colonel stared at him, eyes dark. "I know he's your father. But the man gives me indigestion." Holt grimaced. "What did he want?"

  Bastian spent a while describing the message from the Rubicon and the dead creature on the base. He was breaking some protocol here, going straight to the colonel. Normally Bastian would have contacted his battalion commander, who was lower in the chain of command. But Holt, who led the entire brigade, was like a father to him. They had a good enough relationship that Bastian could call him directly.

  As Bastian spoke, Holt listened carefully, his food forgotten.

  "I'm sending you a photo of the creature, sir," Bastian said. "Hang on. And … here you go."

  Holt grimaced. "Nasty bugger. I lost my appetite." He tossed down his napkin and rose to his feet. "I'll tell you what, Captain. First thing tomorrow morning, I'll get the boys down at Biodefense Labs on the phone. I know the guy who runs the place. A real smart fella. We've gone fishing together, and let me tell ya, the guy talked my ear off about all sorts of crazy stuff the Russians are doing. Whether that bug you caught is an alien, mutation, or Red Dawn freak that escaped from a lab, the Bio Boys will figure it out."

  "Tomorrow … morning," Bastian said. "But sir, what about the message from the Rubicon?"

  Holt snorted. "A spacer gone crazy. Happens all the time out there. What are we gonna do about that? Bring our brigade back to the Freedom? Now, after all this time? And what, billet among the animatronic dragons?"

  "Dinosaurs," Bastian said.

  "No, that ship has sailed," Holt said. "Literally. Our days in space are over, aliens or no aliens. Keep holding down the fort, Captain. I'll look into this."

  "Sir, maybe we should recall the brigade back to the base?" Bastian said.

  "Of course we will. First thing tomorrow, we'll all be there."

  Bastian pursed his lips. "Sir, with all due respect, maybe today would be—"

  "Captain, it's Christmas," Holt said. "My grandson is throwing a tantrum because I bought him the wrong halluci-game. My in-laws are staying over at my house, complaining about everything, from the lumpiness of my mashed potatoes to the roughness of the hand towels. I have enough to deal with right now. If I recall the brigade over some dead bug, I'd have five thousand angry moms calling me, whining that I pulled poor Private Billy, their precious little angel, away from home on a holiday. Not to mention that Mrs. Holt would have me sleeping on the couch for a week. I'll see you tomorrow morning, Captain. Merry Christmas."

  Holt hung up.

  Bastian stood there in his office.

  He blew me off. He totally blew me off.

  He walked into the mess. Alice was there, playing checkers with Rowan. Bear stood nearby, his rifle slung across his back. The giant was a civilian, but he had decided to stay and keep them company.

  Bastian stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at them.

  Alice Allenby—his company sergeant, his right-hand woman, his most loyal soldier.

  Bear—his best friend.

  Rowan—the light of his life.

  Bastian didn't have much left in his life. No more wife, no more house, maybe no future. But he had them. Three people he loved. Here with him at Christmas.

  He vowed to protect them. If he could not protect Earth, at least he coul
d protect three people he loved.

  He knew what to do.

  "I'm a commissioned officer in the Freedom Brigade," he said, perhaps speaking to himself more than to them. "Only a junior officer, yes. I don't have the authority to summon the entire brigade, let alone alert the generals at the Alliance headquarters. But I command a company. I command two hundred brave soldiers. And I'm calling them here. We will defend this base." He grimaced. "They might hate my guts for recalling them at Christmas, but it must be done."

  Alice slapped his shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, we all hate your guts already."

  Rowan poked his belly. "And you have lots of guts to hate."

  "Very funny, guys. All right, Alice, let's start making calls." He heaved a sigh. "I hope this is nothing."

  * * * * *

  An hour later, they were all at Fort Liberty. Two hundred marines.

  They stood in the snowy courtyard, not exactly happy about being recalled at Christmas but ready to do their duty. They called themselves Bastian's Badgers—the brave soldiers of Fourth Company, Second Battalion, Freedom Brigade.

  Frost covered their battle fatigues, armored vests, and helmets. Each soldier boasted a Gideon assault rifle, a bandoleer heavy with magazines, and a belt jangling with grenades. They were decked out for war.

  The Freedom Brigade, Badgers included, had a proud history. They were forged in the flames of World War III, a marine force to strike the enemy anywhere in the solar system. It was the Freedom Brigade that led the fabled Martian Charge, breaking through the Russian lines and liberating the planet. They still remembered their history with pride. Theirs were the first boots on the red soil. They won the war.

  Today? Well, today the Freedom Brigade was a mere echo of past glory. These marines had never fought a war. Never even been to space. To them, the starship Freedom was something from the history books.

  A few World War III veterans did serve at Fort Liberty. But the old-timers served higher up in the hierarchy, overseeing the brigade. Right now those veterans were home with their families, enjoying Christmas afternoon.

  It was only the young Badgers here on base. Their average age was nineteen. Bastian was thirty-three, and he felt like an old man among them. His soldiers were all local Nebraska kids. They had joined the Alliance fresh out of high school, preferring to live at Fort Liberty than plow the fields. Their battle experience came down to the odd bar fight. They were not heroes. But they were good kids. Bastian was proud of them.