by Drew Avera
“Do we get to see her before the surgery?” Brendle asked.
“No. the doctor sent a nurse to relay this information to us because it was time-critical to get her back there and prepped. She was apologetic for the rush.”
“Damn! What if I don’t get to see her again or she doesn’t recognize me? Brain surgery is a gamble.”
Deis nodded. “The doctor has done this many times with a high success rate.”
“Does he have a one-hundred-percent success rate? If not, those unsuccessful numbers are filled with people who had faith in his ability to succeed.”
Deis sighed. “Look, I know you’re worried, as am I, but it’s out of our hands. We couldn’t do anything for her and the doctor will do everything he can. We just need to have faith.”
“Easy for you to say−you grew up with faith. I grew up in a broken home and spent most of my time in the streets. Faith isn’t an easy concept for me.”
“And neither is friendship towards Greshians for us, yet we consider you our brother. Faith manifests itself in different ways, Brendle. Don’t feel defeated so easily.” Deis’s eyes darted from side to side and Brendle could tell his friend was uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Deis. I’m just worried and I don’t know how to handle the emotions I’m feeling. I didn’t mean to put all this off on you.”
“I understand. I need to go back with Malikea. He’s holding our seats, but he wasn’t very comfortable in that room. He’s not fond of people harboring hate in their hearts for others.”
“He’s always been the gentler one of you,” Brendle said.
“He has his warrior side buried, but his strength is always just beneath the surface and ready when I need him.”
“Why don’t you two stay here with me? There’re enough chairs for the three of us.”
Deis shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I don’t know, these chairs are hard, and I liked the cushions on the ones in the waiting room,” he teased.
“Come on, man, don’t leave here to wallow in my thoughts alone.”
Deis laughed. “Let me get Mal and drag him in here. If anyone was attached to the cushioned seats, it would be him.” Deis rose from his seat and slid the door open. “If I’m not back soon, don’t go to your dark place. You need to stay positive, not just for Anki, but for you too.”
“All right,” Brendle replied as he watched his friend step out of the room and slide the door closed again. Alone with his thoughts, the dark place was the most familiar, and like an addict, he soon found himself there once again.
45
Ilium
Standing before her, the looming threat of Quino’s investigation felt more real. Stavis’s nose scrunched up and her lips pursed, her fingers tapping on the console as she scrolled through the recorded feed of Quino’s conversation with the mystery person. “I have a hard time believing Headquarters would send an investigator this far out to conduct an investigation. Normally, the ship would be recalled back to Greshia and ported while a team of investigators worked the case.”
“Is it possible for this to be an attempt to discover more details about my past before pressing charges?”
Stavis leaned back, listening to the exchange between Quino and Headquarters for the fifth time. Each time she leaned closer to the monitor trying to make out the image on Quino’s monitor, but the glare of the screen obscured most of it. “Anything is possible, I suppose, but he sounds adamant about me working for you, and if this is an attempt of gathering evidence, then he won’t find any regarding my involvement before you boarded the King Slayer.”
“So, you should be exonerated, then?”
Stavis shook her head. “Not necessarily, I could still be found guilty of collusion, especially considering you opened up to me about the past and I failed to report it.” Ilium wiped his clammy hands on his pants and crossed his arms over his chest. Each time she spoke of her failure to report, it made his heart beat faster. He knew it wasn’t a threat, but he also knew he deserved nothing less than one. How far would an investigation go before she rolled over on him to save herself? Or was it too late for her as well? “The main issue I have with this is that his credentials could not be verified when he arrived. Even if he was an investigator, he would be in the system. Headquarters usually does a better job regarding such things.”
Ilium sighed. “What do you suggest I do?”
“If Headquarters has reason to believe you were behind the attack, and they use details from your previous experiences in the fleet, then I can see why an investigation would be necessary. But I’m speaking as someone who you’ve opened up to about the situation and explained details not found in message traffic.”
“You looked it up?” Ilium cut her off.
She nodded. “I did, because I wanted to see how far back I could trace events. The thing is, Haranger seems to have his hands in the Greshian Navy’s systems at all levels. I remember the events leading to your rescue from the Hamæråté. There’s no record of that ship existing any longer.”
“Why would he want to erase that information?”
“Why does someone working in the shadows of the empire do anything?”
Ilium pulled a chair closer to Stavis and took a seat. “So, if there’s no evidence of my past skirmishes, then what can they prove?”
Stavis shrugged. “That’s a good question, but a better one is what will they do if they feel they have a case.”
“You heard him, tribunal and execution,” Ilium replied.
“Weak case,” Stavis said. “And you can make it weaker with a confession.”
Ilium gawked at her, puzzled by her statement. “I don’t follow. Won’t an admission of guilt make the case for them?”
“It makes a case against you for espionage, but not for the attack which killed our sailors. Besides, you can claim you were forced into the role against your will and, as soon as you found a way to escape Haranger’s clutches, you took it in order to serve Greshia properly.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“It will work better than Quino’s making a case on scraps of information and false assumptions.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No? Then what idea do you have−to do nothing at all?”
Ilium thought for a moment. She had a point; there was more at stake than his pride. If Quino could make a case against both of them, then any admission of guilt would be dismissed, and both would be executed quickly and severely. If he could find a way to bring up those events in a way that wasn’t a red flag that he knew he was under investigation, then perhaps it would open a door for a deal.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
Stavis nodded. “Just don’t provide too many details. Use general terms and statements. Make it sound like you were manipulated into certain actions.”
“All right,” he replied, looking away and biting his lip. “This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Nothing right ever is, sir.”
“Thank you for not thinking the worst of me,” he said as he rose from the seat. With a hand on the door, he looked back at her as she manipulated the monitor and scrolled through the feed again.
“You’re not a bad person, sir. You’re just someone put in a bad situation and trying to make the best of it. This could be your chance to unload the burden you carry and silence Haranger once and for all.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she said with a wink.
Ilium smiled, opened the door and stepped out into the brightly lit passageway. She’s right, he thought, I need to let go of the burden I bear and move on with my life. Maybe this is the right time to do that. I just hope I don’t lose everything in the process.
46
Hespha
Valara spun in orbit between Belatia and its moon. The details finally came together for Hespha as she peered from the window to see the name of the ship blazoned in crimson, like all the other ships in CERCO’s inventory. She,
of course, recognized Belatia from her childhood trips with her father. Hiding in plain sight, Valara was more station than ship, though it could travel if needed. As a research station, it was the best kept secret within CERCO. As a military operation, Hespha didn’t know if anyone outside the station was aware of what was happening.
“Welcome to Valara, ma’am,” a short, stocky man in a white lab coat said as the doors cycled open. “I hope your flight was pleasant.”
“It was something,” she replied, taking his hand and shaking it. “I have to say, I’m surprised T’anoi never mentioned this place before. It’s amazing.” As those last two words left her lips, she saw two armed guards taking position above their location. She knew what this was, but she also knew they wouldn’t fire unless provoked. How better to keep secrets than by killing those who discover them?
“Yes, well this operation was to be unknown by a lot of people.”
“Yet, our company was able to find evidence of your existence?” Hespha rebuked. “Tell me, how do we keep that from happening again?”
The man stammered. “I…I’m not sure.”
“What is your name?” She asked.
“Vires, ma’am.”
“All right, Vires. There are three things I would like from you as soon as possible.”
“What are they?”
“First, I want those men with the guns to stop pointing them at me. Second, I want a tour of the facility, and I’m not talking about a small portion of it−all of it. And third, I need to see a doctor.”
Vires looked up and waved his arm. The guards lowered their weapons immediately, but didn’t walk away. “That’s done. Perhaps I can escort you to the doctor before beginning the tour?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine to do the tour now. I’m very curious what kind of research you’re doing here.”
“Um, all right,” Vires replied nervously.
“That’s it? Just like that you’re going to give me the tour of your secret station?” Hespha asked skeptically.
“We have strict instructions to adhere to your requests.”
“On whose authority?” Ka’Hor’al asked, interrupting his silence. Hespha looked at him, but it was too late.
“T’anoi’s authority. With his passing, all of this goes to you, Hespha.”
“Then why have weapons trained on me when I entered the station?”
Vires swallowed nervously, looking down at his feet before speaking. “Because T’anoi did not trust his brother. The weapons were not for you, but for him.”
“What? That’s absurd,” Ka’Hor’al shouted. Within seconds, weapons were trained on him once again.
Hespha took a step back. “I don’t understand. T’anoi never mentioned a lack of trust in his brother.”
Vires nodded. “With his family, T’anoi kept many secrets. But it is true nonetheless. Ka’Hor’al, please don’t act out or security will have to take you in.”
Ka’Hor’al stood, fists balled tight, and his jaw clenched. “I can’t believe this.”
“Also,” Vires added. “He is not permitted to tour the station unless you insist upon it.”
Hespha looked at Ka’Hor’al, and the only thing on her mind other than her potential pregnancy was the fact T’anoi distrusted his own brother enough to not allow him to see the station. “Perhaps it is best to respect T’anoi’s wishes, for now,” she replied.
Ka’Hor’al glared at her. “This is bullshit.”
“Don’t cause a scene,” she warned. Looking back at Vires, she noticed the short man extending his hand to escort her. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Come with me, please. My men will take Ka’Hor’al to his room and deliver your bags to yours.”
“Thank you,” Hespha replied, relieved to not be in Ka’Hor’al’s company for a while.
“It’s my pleasure. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Hespha walked with Vires, hand in hand, and all she could think was how advanced the station appeared compared to other CERCO technology. She was aware of the ships built to combat the Greshian threat. She’d been on several during tours early in her career. But Valara was something different.
Out of earshot from anyone else, Hespha asked, “I’m curious as to what you’re doing this far away.”
They turned a corner and descended two levels before Vires stopped walking outside a silver door. “This room is the crux of our research. I warn you, what you see may shock you. But this operation was overseen by T’anoi, and it is now yours.”
Nervously, Hespha replied. “I’m ready.”
Vires nodded, placing his hand over the console to open the door. Inside, wrapped in bright, fluorescent light, lay the body of the weapon. Tubes and hoses sprang forth from her body as a beeping sound chimed every few seconds. Without a closer inspection, Hespha knew exactly who it was.
Carista.
47
Ilium
“Good morning, sir,” Quino said, opening the door to his stateroom while dressed in a light robe. The older man looked frail outside of his uniform adorned with large shoulder boards displaying his rank. Sometimes Ilium had a hard time recognizing himself outside of the uniform; its construction designed to be intimidating and high-class.
“Good morning,” Ilium replied, pretending to wipe sleep from his eyes. Exhaustion ravaged him, not because of the early morning visit, but the lack of sleep as he imagined all the ways this meeting could go wrong. He knew the wise decision was to take Stavis’s advice, but the longer he waited, the more excuses popped in his head. Now, it was do or die.
“Would you like to come in?”
“Yes, please,” Ilium said awkwardly. Quino stood out of the way of the door and Ilium stepped into the cold stateroom. The old man kept his sleeping conditions like Ilium’s, which was going to wreak havoc on his ability to stay awake unless he stood. “Thank you.”
“What can I do for you, sir? Work doesn’t begin for another two hours.” The statement sounded more like concern than complaining about the time. The truth was Ilium knew the man was awake before he knocked on the door. He spent the evening watching his XO slumber, only to wake an hour ago to place a call to whomever the mystery person was on the other end. That prompted Ilium’s action, but nervousness kept him unusually quiet.
“There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Is it regarding my position, sir? I assure you, I’m learning my new role as quickly as I can.”
Ilium shook his head. “Not entirely. Look, there are some things you don’t know about me.” Here we go, jumping right into the fire before looking for an escape route. Idiot. “My rise to becoming captain of this ship took a less than standard route.”
Quino straightened. “Yes, I assumed as much. A ship of this size having a captain your age is most unusual.”
It was Ilium’s turn to straighten. Hearing the indirect accusation crawled beneath his skin, tickling his paranoia. “That’s right,” he admitted. “It takes an enemy who knows how a Greshian warship is constructed; who knows its limits and can defend itself against a Greshian assault. But statistics aren’t going to solve the mystery of who attacked us. I have my own theory.”
“As do I,” Quino replied.
Ilium nodded. “What is yours?”
Quino sighed, craning his neck to one side in a stretch before speaking. “It was an attack carried out to make you captain of this ship. I don’t have definitive proof, but I don’t believe in coincidence. How can you replace the XO on a ship and within a few weeks, the captain dies, and you take command? There’re too many coincidences to not create a pattern. Once I uncover it, I’ll know for sure.”
“I can see why you think that, but I assure you, that was not the case. I can prove it.”
“You have evidence?”
“Not hard evidence, but I have a story that might align your theory in a different direction.” Ilium’s heart pounded as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
Qui
no shook his head. “I’m not here for fictitious stories. I’m here for the truth.”
A sigh escaped Ilium’s lips and he took a step closer to Quino. “The evidence of this story was erased from the database.”
“Which database?”
“Fleetwide message traffic and Headquarters historical files. Anything with my name on it from the time I was stationed on the Telran until I left the Hamæråté. It’s all gone.”
Quino smiled. “Gone, almost as if you were erased?” the man’s tone shifted, and it caught Ilium off guard.
“Yeah.”
“And why do you think that is?”
Ilium paused, gazing into the other man’s eyes for the answer contained within himself. “Because I used to work for someone who wants me dead.”
Quino turned, stepping to a chair in his stateroom and taking a seat. “Please, sit and tell me more.”
Ilium followed the request, immediately feeling more comfortable. The cool temperature of the room calming him. “I was planted in the Greshian Navy as a mole for a man known as Haranger. His plan was to have me, and others, seize control of the fleet and use it against the Empire.”
“How did you come by this Haranger person?”
“I grew up on the streets. I was recruited into shady organizations at a young age. My personality meshed well with the type of person he looked for, and because of my age, he felt I would be a good fit for coming in as an officer.”
Quino scrunched his nose, tapping a finger against his cheek as he leaned his head in his hand. “So, what happened next?”
Ilium leaned back, relaxing more, feeling the burden lifting from his shoulders. “He pulled strings to get me into Officer Candidate School, and I shipped off onto the Telran. I spent four years serving in various departments. I didn’t have a specialty, which allowed me to float. I worked logistics, navigation, and security before transferring.”
