by Drew Avera
“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s funny,” Anki said, the slight curl of a smile on her lips in anticipation.
Wella winked as she put her tea back down. “Oh, Port Hinnah is the worst place to go for repairs. Sometimes ships go in and never come out, at least not fully functional. Besides, a sailor belongs in the dark, not holed up in some industrial complex avoiding the harassing gazes of welders and pipe-fitters.” She held back another laugh in hopes Anki understood what she meant.
Anki nodded as she contemplated what Wella had meant. “I understand what you mean. Port Carreo is the marine equivalent. Sometimes you get shipped in and never get out. I guess I’m lucky to have received orders here,” she said, the irony of saying she felt lucky weighing on her mind.
Wella winked at her again, but this time Anki realized it wasn’t really a wink, but a tick of some sort. It wasn’t as obvious, but each time her eye closed there was a gentle pull at the muscles next to her lips. Anki looked away, not wanting to be rude. “See there, the Navy and Marines aren’t so different.”
“I guess not,” she replied, and both women shared in the moment with laughter. Anki’s anxiety was lessening some now that she had met Wella. It felt good to have someone to talk to instead of the isolation she was used to on Port Carreo.
Wella stacked the remnants of her meal on the tray. “I’m sorry to leave you alone, but I have a navigational brief with the captain in a few minutes and its bad form to be late. I hope you enjoy your stay on the Sera. She’s an old boat, but one of the best in the fleet.” A wink followed, but it wasn’t a wink at all. “Maybe I will see you around the ship. Take care.” Wella scurried off towards the scullery, her tray in hand. Her gait caught the attention of a few male officers which made Anki smile. She wondered how long those boys had been underway to stare so wholeheartedly. Based on the gawking they were doing, she thought it had to at least been a full cycle, but it was hard to tell only a day into her first ride. The hormones of the opposite gender sparked more wars than history could tell, she thought, smiling again.
Anki sat alone, jostling remnants of her food with her fork. She wasn’t very hungry and had nowhere to go, but she was feeling much better after talking with Wella than she had before, as the Seratora overwhelmed her when she first arrived onboard. At least the people were friendly, she thought as the newsfeed changed on the screen next to her. She hadn’t noticed it before, but this time there was sound with the transmission.
“…was hiding in the debris field of Keshnara, a colony planet recently destroyed by the Greshians. It is highly improbable there are any survivors from the Furo, but scout and support ships have been sent in, including the Seratora. Luthian officials have not said whether or not the Seratora will launch a counterattack, but they did say that the situation is being closely monitored. When asked if the attack on the Furo was a declaration of war I was told that the declaration had been made the moment a Greshian war vessel entered the Luthian sector. We do not know the identity of the attack ship at this moment, but an investigation using sector probes has revealed the presence of a Greshian vessel in the Keshnarian territory. That vessel is sending out transponder signals which may be an indication that the Greshians may be planning an attack of Luthia. We will continue to monitor the situation and will update the public on any developments we may find.”
The screen went blank and Anki realized she was standing, as was everyone in the wardroom. Keshnara had been a small colony before it was destroyed. It held no military purpose and the Keshnarians was a separate people from Luthia. They had chosen to not unify with Greshia and paid the price for that choice. Luthia would soon be facing a similar decision and it seemed the answer was a resounding no. Anki should have felt comforted by that thought, but instead all she felt was fear.
10
Brendle
Sleeping on the cold deck of the Telran’s brig was unforgiving. There was no such thing as getting comfortable, just comfortable enough. Brendle awoke with a crick in his neck and lay there for a while, bleary eyes open just enough to see the quiet visitor sitting outside of his cell. The man had his back to Brendle and for a while he thought it might just be the Chief of the Guard or a sentry, but the low-slumped shoulders and lack of weapon was evidence that wasn’t true. If it was Ilium, he’d be watching me with a smile chiseled into his stupid- looking face, Brendle thought as he sat up.
Brendle’s stirring cause the other man to look up. It was Arender.
“Hey,” Brendle said sheepishly, trying to rub the stiffness out of his neck to no avail.
“Hey,” Arender replied. His voice was low and melancholy, not the typical flavor Brendle was used to from the other man.
Brendle groaned as he stood up. The crick in his neck still hurt, but just standing vertical took some of the tension off his back. He walked closer to the cell door, the shimmering of electrons bouncing around, waiting from something to grab hold to, perhaps something fleshy to make a path of least resistance to the steel deck. He stopped before getting too close. Even the sound of sizzling electricity could evoke fear in man. Brendle preferred to look at it as respect, but respect wouldn’t make you piss your pants when it grabbed hold of you.
“Are you all right?” Brendle asked. It felt weird feeling the need to try and console someone from his position inside the brig. But he could tell Arender had a heavy heart. The brushing away of tears in his eyes had left a little discoloration on his cheeks. When the light hit him just right, Brendle could see the next tear forming in the other man’s eyes.
Arender shook his head and brought his fingers up to press against his eyes, fighting back the onslaught of tears seeping past his fingertips. His body shuddered; the rhythm of his shoulders rising and falling matched the sound of choked back sobs. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Brendle felt uncomfortable. Emotions weren’t something he grew up dealing with very much, at least not the important ones. He dug his hands into his pockets just so he had something to do with them. “It’s all right,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “Captain Elastra is going to drop me on some moon and let me live out my days. It’ll be a peaceful way to go.” He left out the part about how discomfiting the thought of starving to death would be, and that was the best situation he could predict. For all Brendle knew, this moon could seep poisonous gases that would make him go crazy and start eating his own flesh from the bone. What’s eating you, Brendle? A voice in his mind would ask. Me. He would reply with laughter. The scenario was unlikely, but he had a lot of time cooped up in his cell to think about it.
Arender just shook his head. “No. I’m not sorry because of your situation. I’m sorry because I was the one who put you there.”
Brendle‘s eyes grew wide. “Wait, what do you mean you put me here? I thought it was Ensign Ilium.”
Arender nodded. “I felt bad for you after we talked. I knew you had a lot on your mind and was feeling homesick. I saw Ilium in the wardroom and we started talking about it. I told him I was concerned for you. He asked if you had been getting enough sleep because a lack of sleep can cause depression. I told him I thought you were and that maybe you just wished you were home. He seemed to understand the situation and took some notes. He asked me when the last time you had called home was and I said you were making the call as I left. He just smiled and said that was a good thing before he walked off. I promise, I had no idea he would go behind you and take the things I said out of context to bring you up on these charges. I’m so sorry,” he finished, his face falling back into his tear-soaked hands.
Brendle fought back the urge to be mad at him. On one hand, he had betrayed Brendle’s trust by going and discussing his personal business with someone else. On the other hand he had gone to confide in someone else because he was worried about Brendle. That was something that would be commendable if not for the fact that concern ended with Brendle being framed for treason. Regardless of who did what, Brendle was already sentenced; his punishment was already in the pr
ocess of being implemented. In short, there was no going back. Worst-case scenario, Arender could be charged for be complicit. Knowing Ilium, Brendle didn’t doubt that possibility in the least.
“Don’t say anything to anyone about this,” Brendle said.
Arender looked up, tears flowing down his cheeks. “Why not? Don’t people deserve to know the truth?”
Brendle nodded, “You know the truth and that should be enough. If other people find out about this then more people could be hurt by it. Just keep your part about telling Ilium to yourself.”
“But it’s my fault you’re going to die,” Arender said sadly.
Brendle moved to step forward, but he was already too close to the barrier for comfort. “Don’t let it be your fault that you die too,” Brendle warned.
Arender looked up at him and acknowledged that he understood what Brendle had meant.
Behind them the hatch opened and Ilium stepped through.
Speak of the devil, Brendle thought as the man strolled towards them. Brendle imagined him skipping gleefully towards his framed prisoner, ready to poke it with a stick to get a few laughs.
“Arender, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ilium said. Arender went to say something, but was cut off. “That’s really interesting, but visiting hours are over. Get out,” it was an order.
Arender looked and Brendle and nodded, the faintest smile to say goodbye curled his lips and Brendle returned it.
Ilium waited for Arender to leave the room before he spoke. “Captain Elastra told me you are entitled to a call home before we dispatch you. I said you were a traitor and didn’t deserve it. He said you’re technically a civilian in custody and there were policies regarding such things, blah, blah, blah. I guess he doesn’t want any red ink preventing him from becoming Admiral Elastra, so here I am.” Ilium bent down and skidded the com-unit across the deck and under the electron barrier. Static electricity arched across the metal case as it entered the field, but the case would protect the com-unit. He stood, “The call will be monitored. Captain Elastra also said if you say anything that might reflect poorly on him or the Greshian Navy, then I have permission to toss you into the dark. Be sure I will be very interested in your conversation,” he said with a smile. His eyes burned into Brendle, daring him to say something back.
“Thank you,” Brendle said, as he knelt down to pick up the com-unit. “Do you think you could monitor my call from someplace else? I’d kind of prefer to call home with the illusion of privacy. It makes saying goodbye to your loved ones easier, though I doubt you have any of those.”
“Ensign Quin, the smart-ass til the end,” Ilium jabbed.
“Yeah, something like that,” Brendle replied.
He waited until Ilium was out of the room before he opened the com-unit to place the call. There was some truth to what he had said about privacy, though. It helped to be alone when he loosened the transmitter chip from the device. The com-unit would still work as long as the two parts were touching, but take the transmitter away and that was a tool that might be useful later.
Brendle thumbed the transmitter back into place and made the call home. It would take hours for the message to reach his mother, and by the time a response was sent he might already be stranded. It was almost a guarantee, considering how Ilium was reluctant to let him make the call in the first place. This was just a tease, a way of getting under Brendle’s skin. But it was also an opening, an opportunity for Brendle to take advantage of. The com-unit chimed to let him know it was ready to record his message. He brought the camera up and looked into it.
“Mom, I know you may have heard some things about me and I wish I could explain, but things aren’t looking good for future correspondence. I promise I will try my hardest to contact you again, but if I can’t, I want you to know I love you and miss you. I’m sorry for any residual discomfort and shame this situation may have brought on our family. Goodbye.”
He closed the connection, knelt, and placed the com-unit back inside the protective case, not forgetting to keep the transmitter for himself. Brendle slid the com-unit back out into the space outside his cell and waited for someone to retrieve it. He looked in his hand at the tiny chip that would allow electrical signals to be sent across the far reaches of the galaxy. So much power in such small things, he thought before placing it in his pocket.
Now, all that was left to do was to wait. He knew his time was running out, but he also knew he was better prepared for his future than he was moments before. His father had told him to take advantage of every opportunity as it presented itself. Of course, he had told his son this days before he ran out on his family, leaving Brendle’s mother to cope with the loss of her husband and the burden of being a single parent. Opportunities were a tricky thing. Brendle had thought joining the Greshian Navy was the opportunity of a lifetime, but it didn’t turn out that way. The spitefulness in his heart towards his father made him hope his father’s opportunity had treated him just as unkindly. If it weren’t for bad luck he might have had no luck at all; that was tradition for the Quin family. But bad luck could turn on its head and surprise you. When it did, you had to be ready, and Brendle had been looking for the upside of things for long enough to recognize it when he saw it.
Time quietly ticked by. In his mind, Brendle thought of all the ways he could take advantage of his final moments on the Telran. People liked to romanticize about going out with a bang, fighting your way to freedom, but in the dark there was nowhere to go. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to fight, but he wanted to live more. He patted the inner lining of his brown jacket, reminding himself of the broken emergency beacon sewn into place. It was the one he had worn when he joined the Greshian Navy, stepping into his training as a young civilian and thrust into an explosive training regimen that resulted in his commissioning after several months of Navy schooling. He had smuggled the emergency beacon in thinking, he might need to use it, but things didn’t hit rock bottom until it was too late. His rapidly successful career had been a blessing turned curse as he was shipped out on the Telran to conquer people who just wanted to be left alone.
He had a few tools now to try and call for help. It was enough to give him at least a little hope. But one thing he didn’t learn from his father was that most plans failed. The beacon and transmitter were just backups for the plan he hadn’t been presented the opportunity to initiate yet, but there was still time. By the gods, all he had was time.
11
Anki
Gravity felt different in the dark expanse of space. Her body moved without the friction of Luthian atmosphere, outside of the gravitational pull of her home world. Sometimes she felt as if she were floating, but there was enough weight on her body to make her movements precise, each landing striking upon the surface she was aiming for. She had never trained in low gravity before and was surprised at how much she perspired despite the increase in endurance she experienced. It wasn’t part of any regimen taught. Perhaps it was because moving felt easier without the pull of defiant force working against you. For Anki, training without full gravity was fun, but also worrisome. If she could maneuver better, then so could the enemy. The Greshians had a leg up in the war. They had destroyed or crippled more worlds throughout the Alorian Galaxy than anyone could ever imagine. They had the tactical advantage of supremacy in warfare. They might lack the ability to hide and sneak up on their opponents, but it was an advantage they had proven they didn’t need time and time again. No one was standing up against them, at least none who could stand and take the fight to them in any significant way. Greshia had seized control of more territory in the sector as years went on, and they didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry. It was the calm, calculated approach of seizing power that was so horrifyingly magnificent. But every strength of their fleet fought to cover a weakness, and if you can take advantage of that weakness then maybe you would have a shot at defeating them, she thought. Stopping Greshia’s expansion wasn’t a question of desire, but necessity. She could
n’t help but wonder how advanced their fighters were compared to hers. The real fear was an even match being impossible, that she would come face-to-face with an enemy who could kill her in their sleep. Technology had advanced significantly since the beginning of the Alorian Wars, but she wondered if Greshia even depended on technology anymore. They were always referenced as superior beings, almost god-like, but no one wanted say it out loud. To admit the Greshians were like God was like saying God was mortal, imperfect.
She remembered her father, the prayer he said to a god she wasn’t convinced was listening, and her adrenaline spiked. Her combat instructor had taught her to focus on the important things, to find strength in a deep-rooted personal thought or memory to distract from the pain of fighting. He said this over and over as she had been tossed around and beaten. The bruises had bruises at times and she was convinced that his banter was more of a distraction in order to trick her into losing. She thought it was his way to get in her head where victory would be more crippling. That was until she thought about something beyond the kicks and punches wrecking her body. The pain was still there, but it was some sideways thing of lesser importance. The thoughts numbed her until they ran out and she got her ass handed to her again. The distraction of happy memories could only take you so far. Skills and persistence had to carry you the rest of the way. It was a lesson learned with more cuts and bruises, but a lesson learned well. She used the happy memories to chase away her body’s desire to give up when it ached from exertion. It worked for a while, but now was one of those times it didn’t.
Anki looked at the time as she left the gym. She hadn’t realized she had been training for twice the time her body was used to, and it made the weakness of wanting to quit an easier pill to swallow. She made her way through the passageways of the Seratora. Everywhere were other Luthians who had answered the call to arms. Many of them had already made friends or coupled up. It wasn’t hard to tell which crewmembers were interested in the coupling, though. Usually they spoke with their faces close to one another as they whispered about their rendezvous, their eyes darting side to side lest they get caught. Life on a ship is strange in that way. All of these people could potentially die, but the things that made them feel more alive or less alone was against the laws of good order and discipline. She found it hard to rectify the kind of thinking that made such demands on its subordinates. At least she didn’t have to worry about that herself. For all intents and purposes, she was a solo act and could handle her needs herself if she needed to. It wasn’t worth disciplinary action for a few minutes of unromantic romp time. Or maybe she told herself that because she still hadn’t found someone interesting enough to endure. She already felt she was on borrowed time. Flinging into a relationship and intimacy seemed a little irresponsible. Her heart was in the right place exactly where it was, without the distraction of love.
