The Alorian Wars Box Set

by Drew Avera

  She was ready.

  Now, more than ever.

  She was at peace with dying.

  16

  Ilium

  The bridge buzzed with activity as the arrival of the new Executive Officer neared. Ilium sat in the captain’s chair, reading over the message regarding the rendezvous with the GNN Opolus where Commander Natty Quino would board the King Slayer. The Commander’s record was an impressive tome of naval service. Quino climbed the ladder in much the same way as Ilium, but his trek took him eight years longer. He probably didn’t have a mutiny−and a disaster as the King Slayer experienced−under his belt. Certainly not from the same cloth as I am from, Ilium thought, turning off the screen and focusing on the activity taking place around him.

  “How much longer until we dock with the Opolus?” He asked. The longer he waited, the more nervous he grew. The other ship appeared on screen, its massive hull reflecting the navigation lights of the King Slayer as they drew near each other.

  “Just a few minutes more, Captain,” Stavis answered. “Their airlock is only fifty meters from ours, and it will take longer for the coupling than it will for us to line up with it. This was the perfect trajectory for this kind of rendezvous.”

  Everything Stavis said went in one ear and out the other, not because Ilium was not interested in what she said, but because it was too much information for him to process in a realm of operations he was not familiar with. Intelligence was his forte, and not often did his strengths coincide with navigating a ship.

  Ilium felt the ship settle, the sensation of not knowing you are moving, to not moving at all caused a peculiar shift in his orientation. Of course, if they truly were not moving, then he would be floating. The King Slayer merely succumbed to the Opolus’ thrust. He smiled, realizing he was catching on after all. He took a deep breath and waited for the all clear before heading down to meet the new XO.

  On the screen, he watched the tunnel duct move towards the airlock of his ship, mating with it hydraulically, sealing in the atmosphere on the Opolus so the crew could board without the need for an EVA suit. The fact only a couple of centimeters of material separated a person from the vacuum of space was a lot scarier when he considered it. Good things he’s crossing over and not me, he thought selfishly.

  “Airlock secured, sir. We are ready for boarding.”

  Ilium nodded. “Very well. Lieutenant Stavis, would you come with me?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, following the captain off the bridge and down towards the airlock. When they were alone, she spoke again. “I know you haven’t looked forward to this moment.”

  Ilium canted his eyes towards her, his eyebrow raised. “Oh, yeah? What gave you that idea?”

  “The fact you’ve been moody the last few days and the scowl on your face now,” she answered with a smile. “And the fact you gave an order to not grant access without an investigation on your new XO. If Headquarters sent him to us, he has to be legitimate.”

  “I’m not scowling,” he replied. “I just don’t like dealing with new people. And you’re right about the investigation. I’m just paranoid after the attack that a mole might try to infiltrate our ranks.”

  “I can understand your concern. This entire crew is new to you, relatively, yet you’re doing fine.”

  Her confidence in him was appreciated, more so than he could put into words. On some days, he felt like he was faking it more than he should. Being the captain of a warship wasn’t what he thought it would be, and the learning curve was steep. “I depend on better officers than I am to succeed,” he said, hoping she picked up on the compliment. Her blushed cheeks suggested she did.

  “Attention on deck,” she called as they approached the airlock. Two sailors jumped to attention, their bodies rigid and faces looking forward.

  “Carry on,” Ilium said, “let’s welcome our new XO.” And cross our fingers that he isn’t someone else.

  “Yes, sir,” one of the men said, moving to the airlock panel and placing his hand on the screen to unlock it. “Security lock is deactivated,” the man said to his partner on the other side of the hatch.

  “Decontamination in progress. Three. Two. One. Decontamination complete. Opening airlock.” The sailor’s motions were so fluid that Ilium thought he must have performed the procedure a few thousand times to be so efficient. That’s what makes this crew successful, he thought, experience.

  When the airlock cycled open, fog formed as the two differential atmospheres of the ships came together, temporarily obscuring who was in the airlock. After a moment, the fog dissipated, and Commander Quino stepped onto the King Slayer. “Welcome aboard, sir,” the sailor nearest the airlock said as he snapped to attention.

  Lieutenant Stavis stepped forward with an extended hand. “Welcome to the King Slayer, Commander. My name is Lieutenant Stavis,”

  Quino took her hand in his and shook as he looked up at Ilium. “It’s odd seeing females on these ships nowadays. I’ve spent most of my career on smaller vessels. I hope you will forgive my shock, Lieutenant.”

  “Of course, sir. I understand,” she replied with a smirk back to Ilium. He remembered feeling the same way when he first boarded the ship, but he quickly adapted. He preferred it.

  “And you must be Captain Gyl,” Quino said, his emerald green eyes looking deep into Ilium as if he was trying to look through him.

  “I am,” Ilium replied, extending his hand to his new second in command. “Welcome aboard.”

  The two men’s hands clasped together, one hand over a balled fist in greeting. Ilium’s hand was on top as a sign of his position. “It’s great to be here. It’s unfortunate about Captain Crexon. I hear he was a well-received captain.”

  “He was the best I’ve ever worked for,” Ilium said.

  Quino looked around the small passageway before looking back at Ilium. “Well, let’s hope some of that rubbed off on you.”

  Ilium smiled outwardly, but inside he thought the new Executive Officer may have tried to be condescending. He held his breath for a beat and resisted the urge to say anything back, not wanting to come across as petty. It was with difficulty that he said, “I agree.”

  17

  Brendle

  The bridge was the only place Brendle felt comfortable. It was where he felt most in control, but he wasn’t attempting to control anything other than the trajectory of a rubber ball as he bounced it off the bulkhead, causing it to rebound once from the deck as it returned to him. He made a mind-numbing game of it, aiming for the same spot on the bulkhead and deck to see how consistent he could be. After a while, he no longer paid attention and just continued the game to spend his nervous energy. The blue orb flashed in and out of his line of sight autonomously. He was stalling, asking the same question time and again, but soon he grew too anxious to keep his mouth shut about it.

  “Pilot, how much longer until we get to Pila?” Hearing himself ask the question felt like an out of body experience. His voice sounded weak, frail, frightened.

  “Four days, Captain.” Pilot answered the question without the least bit of sarcasm or annoyance. If the AI was an organic lifeform, Brendle knew he would receive a scolding for asking so often. It was his sense of powerlessness that made him like this, and it wasn’t the first time. It was just there was more at stake this time around.

  “Shit. Any changes in Anki’s condition?” This question was the second most asked question in his vocabulary in the last thirty-some-odd hours only because he obsessively asked it every other time he asked the first question. It was enough to drive himself mad. He bounced the blue ball again, catching it without looking as he listened to Pilot’s response.

  “Only moderate changes in heartrate, and her eyes are moving behind her eyelids as if she is dreaming. Otherwise, no.”

  “Keep me updated, will you?” That should be obvious, Brendle thought despite himself. He sighed loudly, more at the annoyance he felt for himself than anything else. All this waiting is making me go nuts. />
  “As you wish.” Brendle imagined sarcasm in Pilot’s response because he knew he deserved it. The ball left his hand and returned without his thinking about it.

  “You know, you can always get an update by going down to see her,” Deis said as he stepped onto the bridge.

  Brendle looked up, startled, as he missed catching the returning ball and it bounced off the opposite bulkhead before rolling on the deck towards Deis. The gray man picked it up and stepped towards Brendle. His crimson robe was synched tightly around his torso but danced around his ankles as he walked. He reminded Brendle of the legendary warriors on his home planet from centuries ago. Each time he saw reenactments of them, the actors were dressed similarly to Deis. The commonality of such attire was one of the greatest sources of questions in the galaxy. How could worlds separated by thousands of lightyears contain lifeforms and cultures so similar to one another? The debates raged, just as the wars raged.

  “I’m not really feeling like a chat,” Brendle said.

  “I know,” Deis replied as he knelt next to Brendle. “You’re in here sulking because you don’t know what to do to help her, and you feel guilty about your joke from earlier. You’re embarrassed and don’t want to interact with anyone. Am I right?”

  Brendle shrugged. “More or less.”

  “And what makes you think running away from the situation is going to help?”

  Brendle looked down at the deck. “I knew what I said was wrong when it escaped my lips, but when you told me you would punch me if I said something like that again, my guilt increased. I felt like I betrayed you with my words when I didn’t mean to. I just don’t know how to deal with that feeling.” It’s like one step forward and two steps back. Something keeps happening in our lives that sets us back and I don’t know how to stop it, he thought, but didn’t want to say it.

  Deis nodded, switching his position to sit on the deck next to Brendle. “You’re upset because you thought your words hurt us?”

  “Yeah.”

  Deis sighed. “You need to get over it.” His voice was low, and not condescending.

  Brendle did a double-take, looking at Deis with his eyes wide. “What?”

  Deis returned the gaze. “You held me at gunpoint on our first day’s meeting. I shot at you. We’ve scrapped before. At our worst moments, we came together as a crew. If not for the fact Malikea and I felt a connection with you, you and Anki would have died in the dark when she flew out of the airlock. The fact you acted to save someone who was meant to be your enemy showed us you were someone worth giving another chance to. You’re redeemable, Brendle. Saying something wrong is part of life as a fallible being. That’s all.”

  Brendle let out the breath he’d been holding as Deis spoke and placed a hand on Deis knee, getting the man’s attention. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Don’t thank me, Malikea made me come in here to make up with you.”

  Brendle looked at him, confused, “Really?”

  Deis burst out laughing. “No, we’re family now and family always makes up. I’m sorry I threatened you. It seemed like the only option at the time because all of us felt the same amount of concern for Anki’s wellbeing.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better.”

  “I’m not sure why I hear surprise in your voice. Didn’t you say we were family before?”

  Brendle nodded. “I did, but sometimes it’s hard to accept that how I feel about you guys on the crew is how you feel about me too.”

  “Like you don’t deserve it?” Deis asked, frowning.

  “Yeah.”

  Deis played with the fringes of his robe for a moment before standing. “When it comes to family, I’m not sure anyone truly deserves the affection they’re given. But it doesn’t change anything. Life is full of moments, each one defining itself in a small arc of time. When we look back on it, we will see what was truly most important to us. For me, it will be Malikea, Anki, you, and this ship. If I had to choose one over the other, it would be the most difficult decision of my life.”

  “You would choose Malikea,” Brendle said, a smile curling his lips.

  “Without a doubt,” Deis said with a chortle. “Just as you would choose Anki. But those decisions would weigh on us because we love one another. That’s how I know we are a family and that is how you should know you deserve your feelings for us to be reciprocated, and they are. Just trust that and don’t hide from it. Malikea and I are here for you and Anki, just as you have been there for us.”

  Brendle looked up at Deis and smiled. “I really appreciate this talk. I feel better.” He knew he spoke the truth because he felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, or at least the burden was shared now. He still worried about Anki, but he knew he had support from Deis and Malikea, which made things feel more bearable.

  “Malikea said you would,” Deis replied, tossing the blue ball towards the bulkhead, causing it to bounce back in Brendle’s direction. “When you’re done playing with your ball, Malikea has dinner ready.

  The ball bounced back towards Brendle, but he let it go. Instead, he rose from the deck and followed Deis off the bridge. “I wasn’t playing with it,” he said as they exited the bridge.

  “You totally were, just like a child, but I won’t tell anyone,” Deis replied.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Except for Malikea and Anki; I think they should know.”

  “What? You said you wouldn’t say anything. You’re making it sound weird anyway.”

  Deis laughed. “It’s nice to have funny Brendle back because brooding Brendle is annoying,” he said as he descended the ladder well.

  Brendle followed. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m the same Brendle.”

  Deis laughed.

  18

  Hespha

  Steaming water poured down Hespha’s back as she stood in the shower. It was her favorite place to think, encapsulated by the cascading sound of water and wrapped in the warmth of it beating against her body as it pulsed every other second, massaging away the stress of the day. She reached out and held onto the stone tiles surrounding her, bracing herself in case she lost her balance as she closed her eyes and tried to meditate. Somewhere within the first few minutes, the world fell away, and she was left on a plane of her sole existence outside of the real world. It was with everything else gone that she could focus on the problem troubling her.

  Her thoughts targeted T’anoi’s office and where he might hide information he didn’t want anyone else to know about. After combing through countless files for as many times, she was emptyhanded. She had to think outside the box, away from the traditional means of storing data in physical files and on his computer. Both were clean, but what else was at his disposal, what else could hide the truth?

  “Incoming call,” a robotic voice said, startling her.

  Hespha groaned, wiping water from her eyes and contemplating whether to accept it. “Who is it?”

  “Ka’Hor’al.”

  “Please mark my status as unavailable,” she replied. She was tired of his constant need for attention. She could hardly go an hour alone without being forcibly reminded of his existence as he inserted himself into practically every aspect of her life. The more she tried to pull away, the harder he clung to what she thought would be better dissolved. Why can’t he see we are wrong for one another?

  “Message sent.”

  Hespha sighed in relief. That will stall him long enough to finish my shower, but I’m sure I’ll have a few messages waiting for me. “Turn off notifications for the rest of the evening.”

  “Notifications are disabled.”

  Whatever he wants will have to wait until tomorrow. I need a break.

  She continued to stand in the downpour of hot water, trying once again to lose herself, but now her thoughts were muddled with Ka’Hor’al’s incessant need for coddling. The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew, to the point her heart beat rapidly in her chest as her breathing increased.


  “Goddammit, water off,” she said, prompting the water to slow to a trickle before cutting off as the valves closed electronically. Hespha grabbed a towel and stepped out, not bothering to dry herself off, preferring to wrap the towel around her body and stalk into the bedroom to lie down. Something has got to give, she thought, looking up at the ceiling as the warm water dripping down her body cooled under the spinning fans above her. If things don’t change, I’m going to have to resort to something else.

  “Computer, compile the call data from Ka’Hor’al beginning six months ago,” she said.

  “Does this include calls not to you as well?”

  “Sure,” she said, “why the hell not?” Maybe he’s stalking someone else too, she thought.

  “Data collected.”

  “Display on the wall.” The compilation of calls from Ka’Hor’al appeared on the far wall of her bedroom. Ordered by date, oldest to newest, it did not take long to notice a trend. The closer to T’anoi’s death, the higher the frequency of calls he made, but not necessarily just to Hespha. “Who are those unidentified numbers?”

  “Data not obtainable.”

  “What the fuck? Do a global search.” She bit her bottom lip as the search took place. Within a few seconds, the results posted to her screen. Nothing.

  “Data not obtainable.”

  “Do a sector-wide search.”

  “Data not obtainable.”

  “What the hell have you been up to, Ka’Hor’al?” Hespha scrolled through the data and removed the batch of numbers to file separately. “I may not know who these numbers belong to, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. Computer, save this data, but encrypt it.”