Tempest Rising

by Eric Warren

  He got on the hypervator, taking it over to the ship docks and exited on the boarding level. The docking ring was a band inside the giant structure providing access to the ships and vice versa. The windows showed the ships docked inside the giant station, each of them floating in weightlessness despite the fact they were enclosed. Starbase Eight was one of the larger bases and the primary ship resupply and maintenance hangar for this sector. This side of the station could fit twelve ships at a time, or three of the larger cruisers, though those didn’t stop by as often. Cas glanced over to the dock where he and Box had stood only hours earlier, preparing to leave on the Winston. But now the dock was closed and the space beyond was empty, waiting for the next ship to arrive and take its place. Cas sighed and made his way over to where Tempest was docked.

  It was a sight to behold. Clad all in a steel gray, the ship was compact, its undercurrent engines tucked into its sides like wings, in order to minimize damage at high speeds. The undercurrent emitter was positioned on top, unlike most other ships and the shuttle bays—both one and two—were directly below the main half saucer that made up the front of the ship. It reminded Cas of a bird-of-prey, ready to swoop down for the kill. And it was a brand-new class of ships, only the second in its line: Dragon Class. The Dragon itself had been a prototype and wasn’t in service. Which meant Tempest was the only ship outfitted with the Claxian’s new drive, making it the fastest ship in the fleet. If he had to be on a ship for another mission, Tempest was about the best he could ask for.

  He made his way to the docking latch, connected to the station by a long tube which he followed all the way down to the ship itself. There a young ensign greeted him with a brief nod. “I need to speak with Commander Diazal and Captain Greene,” Cas said.

  “I believe they’re on the bridge.” The ensign’s voice betrayed no hint of emotion and Cas couldn’t remember if he’d seen him before. It was very possible he’d passed him in the hallways and hadn’t noticed.

  “Thanks,” Cas said, making his way to the ship’s hypervator. Civilians didn’t have access to military ships, not unless they were immediate family or had some purpose being there. Cas had been granted special access, just like he had to the high-security brig. Going straight to Rutledge had been a risk, but Evie had put her faith in him and provided access. He had to remember to thank her.

  The hypervator opened on the bridge, which was in much different shape than he’d seen it last. Half of the stations were missing, and it seemed to be undergoing some kind of cosmetic change. Commander Blohm, the bridge engineer, approached him. “Back again, huh? We had a running bet if you’d show up or not.” She wiped her hands on a rag and placed it in her pocket.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Cas said.

  “Didn’t disappoint me,” she said. “Zaal and I bet you’d come back. The others, not so much.” She flashed him a quick smile and headed for the hypervator. Cas turned to watch her go, her long, blond hair which was usually down had been pulled up in an intricate design on her head. The commander had a difficult job; on any other ship she’d be the chief engineer. But since they needed a Claxian to run the new engine and Blohm was a human, she’d been made a liaison to Engineering via the bridge. It had worked out on their last few skirmishes, though Cas could always sense the tension she brought with her when she wasn’t in Engineering.

  Cas glanced over to where Ensign Blackburn used to sit: the navigation station. She’d been impaled by a piece of falling bulkhead in their battle with the Sargans and died on that very spot. And Cas couldn’t help but blame himself. Had he taken down Veena when he’d had the chance, it never would have happened.

  His eyes lingered there until he caught movement. Lieutenant Izak Ronde came into his view, wearing a scowl. He was tall, dark-skinned with vivid green eyes and a youthful face. Being the ship’s helmsman Ronde had worked very closely with Blackburn and Cas couldn’t help suspect he blamed Cas for her death as well. “Something I can help you with?” Ronde asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

  “No,” Cas replied, turning toward the commander’s room which sat off to the side of the bridge. “Just here for the captain.”

  Ronde didn’t reply.

  Cas made his way across the deconstructed bridge as crews of workers glanced at him then continued their work resetting and moving the individual stations. Before each station had all been placed in a circular fashion around a central core which displayed 3D information to the entire bridge at once. But that core had been damaged in their battle with the Sargans and it looked as if they might be reconfiguring the bridge for a more traditional two-dimensional setup. Cas would have loved to stop and ask questions about the specifics, but he didn’t have time. And his headache wouldn’t have allowed him to enjoy much of it anyway. He approached the door to the captain’s room and pressed a small button beside it.

  The doors slid open, revealing Greene and Evie, both standing beside Greene’s desk. He held something small in his hand. “Congratulations,” Greene said. Evie nodded, taking the item from him, but it was too far away for Cas to tell what it was.

  “Mr. Robeaux,” Greene said. “Good to see you again.” Typically when people said that they were either being sarcastic or had mistaken him for someone else. But with Greene the sentiment was genuine. Cas could see it in the man’s eyes. It helped Evie had done nothing but supported him since he’d been assigned to Tempest. “How are you feeling about our new assignment?”

  Only he and Evie had been present with Cas in the meeting with the admiral. Cas could only assume that meant no one else knew about the specifics of the mission yet. “Ev—Commander Diazal didn’t tell you?” he asked.

  “She said you weren’t feeling well and visited the medical ward on the concourse.”

  Cas couldn’t help but feel indebted to her again. Even after his outbursts, she still hadn’t given up on him. “It was a lot to take in,” Cas finally said.

  “I imagine for someone who should be on their way to Pyrocyon it came as a shock.” Greene rounded the desk and took a seat in his chair. “Have a seat.” He offered the two chairs behind them.

  “Have you…made any decisions?” Evie asked, hesitant.

  “I spoke with Rutledge,” Cas said, prompting a look from Evie. “I wanted to know what we’re going into. But honestly, this is going to be very risky. Rutledge told me the Achlys shot ten of their people into space while capturing the scout ship. And they don’t know it, he says they think the ship is missing.”

  Greene leaned back. “I read the report. It doesn’t make things any easier on us, that much we can count on. Even if we do broker some kind of alliance with them, it will probably come out eventually.”

  “Is an alliance even realistic?” Evie asked. “After a hundred years of zero contact and another five hundred before that of feigned ambivalence?”

  “I’m hoping,” Greene said, “Once they see what our long-range telescopes picked up they’ll be more open to talk. The Coalition is the only thing that stands in between them and these things coming at us. It’s at least in their best interest to use us as some kind of shield.”

  “How sure is Coalition Central of the evidence?” Cas asked. “We can’t go in there touting this information unless we’re a hundred and ten percent sure.” Was he the only one who didn’t see the possibilities here?

  “What are you thinking?” Evie asked. “It was doctored?”

  “I had that thought as well,” Greene said.

  “Captain?” Evie asked, her mouth remaining open.

  “Honestly, Commander, after everything we’ve learned recently about the Coalition, I wouldn’t put it past them.” Greene clasped his hands on his desk.

  “But that was just one man,” Evie protested. “He couldn’t—”

  “One man, his crew, and a couple of admirals,” Greene said. “I always suspected things like this inside the Coalition, I had hoped they would never come to light. Not in a way that could hurt what we have here. But if the Cla
xians ever found out about the Achlys, I don’t know how they’d react. It probably wouldn’t be good.”

  Evie shook her head. “I don’t believe the entire Coalition is corrupt. Some elements, yes; but to go as far as to doctor telescope footage to justify an alliance with the Sil…”

  “If it were just to build a weapon I would say it was more likely,” Greene said, mirroring Cas’s thoughts.

  “You think because we have to turn to the Sil for help it’s genuine,” Cas said.

  “They wouldn’t risk it otherwise. A potential miscommunication here could send us into a full-scale war with the Sil. And Kor knows we don’t have the technology to fight them, even with what the Claxians come up with. By the time the alien threat gets here, we might all be dead anyway.”

  Cas hung his head again. “I really wish a diplomatic team was making this run.”

  “Then you’re in luck. We’re getting a new, temporary crewmember. She’ll help guide you on what you should and should not do when trying to engage with the Sil. It’ll be a crash course on diplomacy, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Great,” Cas groaned.

  “How are we going to explain this to the crew?” Evie asked. “Won’t it look suspicious, us heading into Sil territory with Cas on board? Especially after everything we just went through?”

  “Our cover is we are initiating second contact due to the capture and prosecution of the criminal responsible for the antagonism between the Coalition and the Sil. Now that Rutledge is in jail, Coalition Central feels it acts as a good jumping-off point to open up formal negotiations.” He turned to Cas. “With you at the lead, of course.”

  Cas shook his head. “Of course.”

  7

  “Did’ja hear?” Izak whispered. “He’s back on board. Strutting around like he can come and go as he pleases.”

  Lieutenant Jorro Page glanced up from working on the tactical station. “When?”

  “Bout twenty minutes ago. While you were in the stacks.”

  Page glanced at the door to the command room. No doubt he was in there making up some story to the captain about why he deserved a break while the rest of them had to earn their places on this ship.

  “You don’t think he’s coming back on board, do you?” Izak added. “That was a one-time thing, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Page replied. “I heard the admiral lifted his warrant. Fuckin’ criminal if you ask me.” He turned back to the console, trying to get the connections apart. “Damn thing. Why don’t we have another Engineering team up here yet? Isn’t this their job?”

  “We’re waiting on more teams,” Izak said. “They haven’t started on my station either.”

  Page glanced over to the helm. Everything on the bridge was in pieces. And they were supposed to be ready to launch again in three days? What could be so important? They’d found the stupid ship. And the traitor had gotten his revenge by having one of the top admirals in the Coalition arrested. Wasn’t that enough?

  Page hunkered down and put his arms on his knees, staring at the command room door. “Is she in there too?”

  Izak shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Why does she defend him so much?” he asked. “I don’t get it. Turn against your crew, get twenty-four of them killed. Then escape while on parole and five years later you’re the new golden boy of the Coalition?” He shook his head. “Something doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t know,” Izak replied. “If we hadn’t had to go after his stupid ass Blackburn would still be here.”

  Page crossed himself. “It’s like wherever he goes death isn’t far behind.” The door slid open revealing the traitor and Commander Diazal exiting together. Neither looked very happy, so that was a plus. Page realized he was staring as he watched them cross the bridge and make their way to the hypervator, but he didn’t care.

  “I bet they’re screwing,” Izak whispered.

  “Hey, that’s your commanding officer there,” Page reminded him. “Show a little respect.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Izak stiffened. “I need to get back to my station.” Without another word he turned and made his way back across the bridge just as the traitor and the Commander stepped onto the hypervator.

  Page stood and walked over to the command room’s door, spanner still in his hand.

  “Yes?” Greene said as soon as the door recognized he was on the other side. The doors slid open to reveal Greene sitting behind his desk, reading some reports. The wall behind him sported sparse decor, other than his medals for honor and distinguished service. The captain was a man of few possessions. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?”

  Captain Cordell Greene was one of the most respected captains in the fleet and Page had been proud when he’d been chosen for his crew last year. But this nonsense with the traitor had tainted his impression of the captain. What sort of captain would allow someone like that on their bridge? To dictate the missions even? Page had played along in the beginning, especially when he’d been assigned to the team that had to inspect that derelict drydock. But he couldn’t get past the thought of a deserter having any kind of authority or clearance on board Tempest.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I may be out of line, but I have to know. Is that—is Mr. Robeaux coming back on board?” He clasped his hands behind him.

  Greene eyed him for a moment then put down the display he’d been studying and straightened himself in his chair. Page took notice of his strong, weathered hands. “Is it a problem if he is?” he challenged.

  Damn. Had he not been coming back on the captain wouldn’t have asked. “No, sir, I was just curious.”

  “I’m not at liberty to reveal anything at the moment, Lieutenant,” Greene said. “But I suggest if you have a problem with Mr. Robeaux, you take care of it.”

  Page winced. “No problem, sir, I was just…curious. Like I said.”

  Greene regarded him for a moment. “How are the repairs and refit going on the bridge?”

  He relaxed, relieved Greene had steered the conversation off Robeaux. “Slowly. We need at least two more teams if we’re going to be ready in three days.”

  “I’ll put in the request,” Greene replied. “Anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Dismissed.” Page felt Greene’s eyes on his back as he left the command room. Why had he gone in there; had he needed to know that badly? Izak glanced up at him as he re-entered the bridge. Page dropped his eyes and gave a shake of his head that said, “You were right.”

  Izak mouthed “fuck” and rolled his eyes.

  Page returned to his station, depressed. How much longer would they have to suffer that treacherous bastard? Why couldn’t they leave him here on the station? He couldn’t be important for their next mission. Was he supposed to be a member of the crew now, too? One thing was for sure, when Page became captain, no one who was ever associated with the Sargan Commonwealth would ever be allowed anywhere near his ship.

  No matter what.

  ***

  The console finally lit up, all of the displays coming back online. “That’s it,” he said. “Looks like you got it.”

  “Sorry that took so long, Lieutenant,” Ensign Tyler replied. “We’ve been having a hell of a time reconfiguring the bridge. These new Dragon class ships seem to have a mind of their own.”

  Page stared at the display, double-checking all of his systems were back online. It had reset to the default and he’d have to reconfigure it to his own personal preferences again. “Better than nothing,” he grumbled. “How they expected the ship to be ready in such a short amount of time I’ll never know.”

  “If there’s nothing else,” Tyler said, replacing his tool in the small satchel he’d brought with him from Engineering.

  “Did you hear? The deserter is coming back on board,” Page said, still furious at the situation. It had been all he’d been able to think about since his meeting with the captain.

  “The…deserter? Oh, you mean Robeaux,” Tyler sai
d, his voice too cheerful for Page’s mood. Had everyone forgotten what he’d done?

  “I’m good here, you can go.” He turned his attention to fixing his reconfiguration. He barely registered Tyler leave his field of vision. There had to be someone else not happy with the fact he was coming back.

  Page glanced over his shoulder at Izak, sitting in his new helm chair, probably doing the exact same thing he was—configuring his systems. Page locked down his station and walked over, avoiding all the parts still on the ground and the teams reassembling the bridge.

  “Lieutenant,” Izak said. “They get you all squared away over there?”

  He nodded, leaning down. “You?”

  “Still working on the last few things. I can’t wait to have all this cleaned up and out of the way.” He indicated the mess that was the bridge.

  Page leaned over, his eyes sliding to the side to make sure no one else was close enough to listen. “I need your help.”

  “With what?” Izak locked down his station.

  “Have you ever been down underneath the undercurrent engines, on the lower decks?” Page asked.

  “No, sir, I don’t see—”

  “Gets real hot down there. All the plasma is vented through the ducts that line the walls. It’s why we don’t have any critical ship systems there that require constant maintenance. Because most humans can only stand it for a few minutes. Only a Derandar could stand it long-term. The heat is unbearable.”

  “Sir, what does this have to do with—?”

  “When you’re down there,” Page continued, “from the moment you step into that corridor all you want to do is leave. To go back to where it’s a lot cooler and the air isn’t so muggy. Some people feel like they might pass out. It’s very uncomfortable. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  Izak pulled his lips between his teeth, nodding. “I think so, sir. I don’t want him here anymore than you do.”

  “Good. Then I need you to do something for me. And I need you to be quiet about it.”