by Drew Avera
“I suppose I can take solace in the fact we made it and she’s no worse for it.”
“You can. I’m confident that doctors will be able to help her.”
“Are you just saying that because it would make me feel better?”
“Not at all. But that’s not license to assume I wouldn’t if it was necessary.”
“Fair enough,” Brendle said as the landing area came into view. For an advanced world, the air traffic was minimal. It was a good thing considering he was trying to park a vessel larger than most land hoppers and transports on a landing area smaller than his ship. This is a far cry from the major port on Farax, he thought. “Pilot, can you handle the landing?”
“Of course.”
“Great, take her in, I’m going to prepare the cargo bay for the medical crew.”
When Brendle entered the cargo hold, he found the space fully secured and clear. He knew Malikea and Deis worked towards cleaning it during the transit, but he expected to find a few loose ends needing sorting. The last time he entered the space, there were empty supply stores scattered everywhere, most not tied down, and the deck was covered in trash. It wasn’t the kind of ship cleanliness he experienced in the Greshian Navy, but this was not a naval ship. It was a ship of refugees, and he found himself being more lax with things than he should be. He hated to admit it, but he almost expected to find the same scene from days ago. Instead, everything was done for him, and all that was needed was the cargo bay doors opened to facilitate the boarding medical crew awaiting them.
As he looked over the cargo bay, he felt the ship descend, the sensation floating up through his body and giving him a momentary sense of weightlessness. Within minutes, the Replicade touched down, the landing gear shrugging under the weight of the massive hull. They had arrived.
“Captain, we have landed. The medical transport is just outside the cargo bay.”
“Thank you,” Brendle said as he reached to the console and pressed it. The cargo bay door cycled open, letting in the bright, pinkish light from Pila’s sun. Brendle lifted his hand in front of his face to guard his eyes, squinting to see four men enter the ship with a levitating gurney.
“We are here to secure the patient,” one of them said, his voice loud enough to speak over the sound of the dying engine.
Brendle nodded. “Follow me,” he said, leading the men to the med bay. Now that they were on Pila, he allowed himself to take a breath of relief. Anki wasn’t out of the woods yet, but at least she was on her way to getting the help she needed. If that wasn’t a relief in its own way, he didn’t know what was.
34
Anki
She stood before Carista, her reason for being there more of a mystery than before. If I’m not here to save her, then why am I here? “What can you tell me?”
The girl looked away, turning her back on Anki as she looked out over the horizon. Dark clouds parted and revealed the glow of a distant, pinkish star. Anki knew the color was due to the atmospheric gases on the planet she was on, but she still thought it was beautiful, a far cry from Luthia, obscured beneath thick clouds most of the year. “Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?” Anki asked, her voice just above a whisper. She stared over the landscape as warm light danced across the surface.
“The war growing nearer.”
A frown formed on Anki’s face as she crossed her arms. “The war has raged for four decades, Carista. Since before I was born.” Talking about it reminded her of all she lost, of her father.
“Not the Empire’s war, but the one on the horizon,” Carista answered.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow,” she replied.
Carista turned to her. “They will wage war against the Empire and enslave the galaxy. You can’t let them win.”
Anki nodded, feeling as if she understood her purpose finally. “You want us to stop CERCO?”
Carista shook her head. “No, they must enter the war, but they cannot be allowed to win.”
Anki stood in silence, listening to the girl whose wisdom rivaled that of someone twice her age. In practical terms, Anki knew Carista was dead and that she was speaking with a ghost or some other kind of apparition, but the girl’s words rang true to her. “To do that, I would have to side with the people who destroyed my world,” she said finally. Her words stung as she said them, her heart beating faster, in time with her heavier breathing.
“What if I told you there was another way, but you would have to side with an enemy?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Greshia is my enemy.”
“No, the enemy would not be yours.”
“Then whose?” Anki asked, puzzled.
Carista turned her back again, her hair flowing in a gentle breeze unfelt by Anki. “That, unfortunately, has yet to be revealed.”
Anki stepped forward, fighting the urge to touch Carista’s shoulder. “Why am I here, Carista? Why bring me to this place?”
Carista canted her head, looking up at Anki with clouded, amber eyes. “I did not bring you here, Anki.”
She shook her head, her brow furrowed with frustration. “Then who did?”
Carista shrugged. “I thought you brought me to this world,” she replied.
Confused, Anki stared at the young girl, an apparition in her own mind. “Is this a dream?”
Carista stood silent, staring out as the sky grew dim. “I don’t know what this is, Anki. Sometimes the answers we seek turn out to be more questions. In the end, the answer is inside you all along.”
Carista’s response reminded Anki of something someone else said to her long ago. As she thought about it, she remembered the voice of her father speaking to her as a child. It was after her mother left and she felt alone. For years she thought the “answer inside herself” was telling her it was her own fault that her mother left. It was a burden too heavy for a child to bear, yet those words reverberated through Carista’s lips with the same impact as they did from her father. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. The pain is much too real when I’m awake.”
A tear fell down Carista’s face. “You mourn for us all, Anki, but you need to live for yourself.”
“And if I don’t have the strength to carry on?”
The girl looked out over the horizon as clouds rolled in, billowing forth like a raging army. “Then do it for your family.”
35
Hespha
She met Ka’Hor’al at the transport. The entire trip she contemplated whether to include him or not, but she knew asking him to stay would prompt more questions she had no desire to answer. Instead, she wiped her tears away, pushing down the thoughts forcing their way to the surface. The reminder of what her family lost before she felt she lost everything. With the sensation of hopelessness came the sting of betrayal. The files she read on her way to the transport broke her heart, and all that was T’anoi’s doing. She sucked in cold air while she walked towards the entrance. Her lungs burned as the icy air flooded into her body, but she no longer cared about pain; she welcomed the distraction.
“You’re late,” Ka’Hor’al said nonchalantly. He stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. It made the man look boyish to her, immature.
“I had things to do, but we’ll make the transport,” she replied coldly.
“Like what?”
Like none of your goddamned business, she thought dismissively. “I visited T’anoi’s grave to say goodbye.” Ka’Hor’al gawked at her, speechless just as she knew he would be. His lips moved to speak, but nothing came out. “Spending all this time rummaging through his files has kept him on my mind. I felt I needed to let him go if I was going to move forward,” she said, watching the muscles in his face loosen as he seemed to accept her response.
“Do you think it worked?”
“I don’t know, and I really don’t feel like talking about him if I’m trying to forget him,” she spat. “I just want to drop off my bags and take a nap on the long flight.”
“Of course,” Ka’Hor’a
l replied. “Let me take that for you.” He grabbed her luggage and walked towards the drop-off, scanning her ticket in the machine and retrieving the printed shipment voucher to accompany the luggage. She watched as he adhered the voucher to the outside of her luggage and sent it down the chute where it was conveyed towards the terminal whence their transport would depart. “Let’s go check in.”
Hespha followed Ka’Hor’al, tucking her arms beneath the folds of her robe, not because of cold, but because of shame. The truth was she could never forget T’anoi, especially after what she saw in the crystal file. But she did not trust Ka’Hor’al with the information she discovered. In truth, she didn’t trust anyone with it.
“You’re being very quiet, Hespha. Are you sure everything is all right?”
She shrugged. “It just hit me hard being at his grave alone. At the memorial I thought I could forget him, but being there, alone with my thoughts, so many happy memories that I didn’t dwell on while he was alive.” There was a bit of truth to her words and she caught herself off-guard as she said them.
“You just need to create new happy memories. I think he would want that,” Ka’Hor’al replied.
Hespha hesitated to speak, knowing what would escape her lips would be scathing. What makes you think that? She would ask. Is it the look of a dying man as he realizes he was betrayed and killed by his brother and ex-wife? She knew those words would do more damage than good, so she buried them inside her, biting her tongue and biding her time. “Perhaps one day I can accept that,” she said as they stepped into the terminal, scanning their tickets to board the transport. “Until then, I’ll mourn in my own way.”
36
Ilium
The passageway echoed with their steps as Ilium and Stavis strode towards Stavis’s stateroom. Her quarters nestled two levels below Quino’s, giving them an opportunity to discuss the man’s presence without being in his earshot, but neither spoke out loud; not with the bustling activity of the nightly turnover taking place around them. Instead, irritatingly dull small talk accompanied them, Ilium’s drone about himself displacing the most oxygen in the space.
“I never thought I was going to make it off that ship, to be honest. The Telran stayed deployed for more than two years, and we hit one port, which we later destroyed as communications broke down between our people and theirs. By the gods, I can’t even remember what that planet was called.”
“Sir, we’re at my room,” Stavis said politely, stopping abruptly.
Ilium followed suit, “Ah, yes,” he replied, placing his hands behind his back, trying to look professional when gossip about Quino’s supposed purpose on the King Slayer burned a hole in his tongue.
“Would you like to come in and discuss tomorrow’s schedule?”
He nodded, tilting his head from side to side to see if anyone paid them attention. If anyone was, they played it off better than he could. Besides, even if anyone caught on to the fact he was entering her stateroom, he doubted they would draw a conclusion regarding their distrust of Commander Quino. Most would assume fraternization threatened to break down the chain of command, not a mole placed in the Executive Officer’s position. “Of course.”
Stavis opened the door, the pale light overhead illuminating at the sense of movement before she stepped in. ilium followed, his feet touching upon the plush carpeted rug. The texture of its padding was a stark contrast to the rest of the ship. The design of the rug did not appear to be Greshian, but he could not place it. “Where did you get this?” Ilium pointed down.
Stavis pulled down two glasses and a bottle of Mar from the cabinet. “My father was enlisted in the Navy. He bought that on Belatia.”
Ilium frowned. “It’s not common for active duty Navy to have families.”
Stavis smiled, eyeing Ilium as she poured the first glass. “Oh, no. My father was discharged before meeting my mother. He served twenty years and retired.” She handed a cold, frosted glass to Ilium.
“I’m sure he is proud of your service,” he said, raising his glass like a toast.
She looked down. “I wouldn’t know. He died when I was ten.”
Ilium sighed, regretting his assumption about her family. He stammered a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She smiled meekly. “Thank you. My reason for serving is to honor him. I do hope he would be proud.”
Ilium nodded, taking a sip of the Mar and feeling the sweet nectar wash down his throat. He still felt the effects of his first three glasses from the ward room, hence the reason he felt so talkative.
“So, what’s the plan for dealing with Quino? I’m on board. He isn’t being sincere, and I believe you that he was sent here for purposes not conducive to our mission.”
Ilium shrugged. “I’m glad you believe me because I’m about to provide more evidence to support my theory.”
“How so?”
Ilium sipped the Mar again and grinned wickedly. “I want you to bug the room and record everything.”
Stavis stepped back. “Sir, that’s a bold move, and one where we could easily be discovered. All it takes is an electronic pulse to cause the bug to reveal itself. We already know he has an EMP weapon on board. I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”
Ilium groaned, wiping his eyes as a headache formed. “I know where you’re coming from, but the benefits outweigh the risks. If we let this man plant the device with no means of tracking his actions, then we will be at risk of losing the whole crew. I can’t have that. Better to have a black eye than a dead ship.” Stavis set her glass on the table and sat in the chair against the bulkhead. The effects of the Mar appear to be taking hold of her as well, he thought.
“Assuming you’re right, how do you plan to find the device if he hides it on the ship?”
“Put a tracker on it as well?”
Stavis shook her head. “It won’t work. The device will fry a tracker as soon as it powers on.”
“Then what do you suggest, Lieutenant?”
She sat silent for a moment, her face in her hands. When she looked up, he saw how bloodshot her eyes were. Definitely the Mar taking effect. “We find a way to track him.”
“All right, make it happen,” Ilium said, staggering toward the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. I need to get to my room before I’m crawling back.” He thought he heard Stavis say something, but when he looked back, her head leaned against the back of the chair and a light snoring sound emanated from her mouth. “I hope to the gods you remember this tomorrow,” he said. “Because if I forget too then we’re fucked.”
Ilium stepped out the door and braced himself against the bulkhead. The empty passageways made him feel completely and utterly alone, but it was a familiar sensation. As he climbed up the nearest ladder well, one rung at a time, pulling himself up with the cold, steel handrails, he felt his vision tunneling. He moved forward, drunk and delusional, not feeling as if he merely consumed too much Mar. No, the feeling was something else entirely. He heard footsteps approaching and looked up, but could not make out the face. A voice spoke, unrecognizable, and a set of hands grabbed him. The urge to fight to free himself was overpowered by his inability to control his motor functions. He tried to look around, but everything spun wildly out of control, just like his life.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his tongue half-hanging from his mouth.
A response came, but he heard none of it. All he knew turned to darkness with the blink of an eye.
37
Brendle
A gentle hum accompanied the medical crew as the transport hovered over the terrain, gliding weightlessly at top speed as it careened towards the medical center. Brendle stared at Anki’s emotionless face. He no longer saw her as sleeping before his mind shifted morbidly to the fact she looked deceased. No amount of shaking the thought away kept it at bay, so Brendle stared forward, past Malikea’s worried face and to the bulkhead of the transport where pipes and tubes decorated the surface for reasons unknown to him.
He focused on the hum, drowning out the conversations as best he could. It was easier when the man next to him did not tap him on the shoulder.
“What had she eaten before this happened?” the tech asked impatiently.
Brendle, startled, gazed up at the man questioningly. “Come again?”
“What kind of diet did she have for this happened?”
Brendle shrugged, trying to think back but drawing a blank.
“Just the premade meals we all consumed,” Deis answered. “We eat preserved meals. Here is one of the containers.” He handed the tech a silver wrapper.
“All of you eat these? Has anyone else had unusual episodes, blackouts, digestive issues?”
“No,” Deis replied as Brendle sat there dumbly. He felt outside himself, like a soul without a body as he watched life happen around him, but could not feel himself tangible enough to partake in it.
The tech typed information onto a tablet, staring at the list of ingredients on the package as he did so. Brendle watched the man’s lips move as he read and wondered if there was anything to the chemicals inside that could have caused her condition. “She was exposed to a high dosage of radiation,” he managed finally.
The tech looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “How so?”
“We had an incident where she was sucked out of the cargo bay through a ruptured hull without an EVA suit. This happened several months ago.”
“And how long was she exposed?” The tech began typing again, dropping the wrapper onto the seat next to him.
“I…”
“Close to two minutes,” Deis interrupted. “Brendle was exposed as well. We conducted a scan on him after discovering her tumor. His scan came back clean.”
Brendle looked over to Deis, his hand clasping tightly to Malikea’s as the constant hum droned on. “Could that be causing this?” Brendle asked.
