by Eric Warren
Greene set the recorder down on his desk.
“Wow. She really does care,” Box whispered, staring at the recorder.
Cas was stunned. “She did that, for me?” he asked. “Why?”
“I haven’t known the commander long,” Greene said. “But from what I know about her and her service record, she has a real problem with bullies and people who don’t believe in the sanctity of the Coalition. What Rutledge has done goes against everything we stand for. Perhaps she took it personally, having been assigned by him to go get you. Whatever it is, she wasn’t going to let it go.”
Cas furrowed his brow. “I can’t say I’m not appreciative—”
“Of course she also violated protocol by going after you and saving your life,” Greene said. “Fortunately, records of the incident have been conveniently misplaced.” He grinned.
Cas grinned back. Maybe the Coalition wasn’t so bad after all.
***
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Cas said as they watched Rutledge being led from his office by three security personnel. He and Evie reclined on the couch in his quarters on Starbase Eight—provisionally given to him by Admiral Sanghvi, the new ranking officer for the station—watching the feed repeat over and over. The official Coalition news station hadn’t been showing anything else for the past six hours.
“You think you’ll be ready for the trial?” Evie asked. Her arm was still in a hyperbaric wrap, but only for another twelve hours.
“I doubt he’ll let it get that far,” Cas replied. “He’s got too much pride. He’ll take whatever deal they offer him. I can’t believe Greene made this happen.” He turned to her. “That you made it happen.”
She placed her hand on his forearm for a moment. “We all made it happen. And hopefully after this the Coalition will think twice about commissioning experiments based on alien technology. I think it was for the best you destroyed that ship.”
“I think you’re right,” Cas replied.
“So what are you going to do now? No ship. And stuck in the middle of Coalition space.”
Cas glanced around. His quarters were on the upper levels in the starbase; from here he could see Tempest under repairs down below. It had been a rough few days, but he hadn’t had a lot of time to think about the future. Between all the meetings with admirals and providing his testimony to the Coalition security forces he’d wanted nothing more than sleep. Box had been adamant about staying in “his” hab suite, but the maintenance crews had already disassembled it, leaving him to bunk with Cas again.
“I’m not sure. Without a prison sentence hanging on my neck I was thinking about working my way back to the inner systems. Figure out a way to get another ship. Nothing fancy, just something that will get me from here to there.”
“You could always join up again,” Evie suggested.
Cas recoiled. “And go through everything all over again? The academy was tough enough the first time. I’m not sure I want to put myself through all that again.”
“They might be willing to grant you something provisionally—since, you know…”
Cas shook his head. “It’s been seven years. I doubt I’d even be able to qualify for lieutenant anymore. No, I think I want to take my robot and start exploring. Without any kind of weight dragging me down.”
“You don’t think the Sargans will come after you? After what happened to Veena?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not too worried about it. I can start on the far side of Coalition space. About as far from the Sargan Commonwealth as I can get.”
“That’s where I used to be stationed. Out near Epsilon Lyre.”
Cas leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. “I’m talking about even further out. Archellia, or Beta Stromgren. You know, the real untamed frontier.”
Evie scoffed, sitting back and taking a sip of her tea. “Just can’t stay in civilized society, can you? It will take months, if not years to even get out that far.”
“Yeah, but what’s life without a little adventure?” Cas replied. He would never be able to express how thankful he was to her for saving his life. And in all honesty, he would love to stay here in the middle of the Coalition, find a way to stay on Tempest, but it wasn’t realistic. He’d never be anything other than the criminal-turned-revolutionary to the crew. And even if people no longer looked at him with disgust, it would still be in the back of their minds. He was still the reason twenty-four people from the Achlys were dead, nothing could ever change that. But at least now he’d taken steps to make it right.
“Well,” Cas said, standing. “I guess I should go start booking passage. What about you? Headed back to Tempest?”
She stood as well, nodding. “We’ll be in repairs for another week then we’ll get our next assignment. But I think it will be hard to beat this last one.”
He smiled. “Yeah. It was one hell of a ride.” He paused, trying to draw out the moment. “Thanks.”
She watched him a moment before heading toward the door. At the last moment she turned. “Thanks yourself,” she said, then disappeared through the other side. It was only when she was gone Cas realized it was probably the last time he’d ever see her. And for all his protestations to the contrary, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart as the doors slid closed.
Epilogue
“Ready?” Cas asked, approaching the airlock.
Box trudged along behind him, dragging three crates which scraped along the floor. “Are you sure we have to go?”
“I suppose you could stay here, if you wanted to be assigned to exhaust cleaning,” Cas said.
“I should have rights!” Box announced, banging on his chest, sending an echo of metal on metal through the space. “I should be able to go to the academy if I wanted!”
Cas scoffed. “Keep dreaming, bud.” He turned to the airlock. Beyond was the USCS Winston; a survey ship headed for Pryocyon. He’d managed to book passage for them as far as Pryocyon IV, but once they arrived he’d have to make new arrangements. He’d been given free passage through the Coalition but that didn’t mean things would be easy. The Coalition had been very enthusiastic about keeping the events surrounding the Achlys quiet. Which meant few people beyond the crew would know the actual story. The cover was Rutledge had been arrested for a separate charge having nothing to do with the crew of Tempest or Cas. The two events were to be kept as separate as possible, though any arrest warrants for Cas had been quietly rescinded.
Cas understood. They wouldn’t want word getting out to the Claxian homeworld or any of the Coalition’s enemies that there had almost been a coup within the Coalition itself. Rutledge had brought them to the brink of war and it had only been the actions of Cas and the crew of the Tempest who had prevented it all. And no one would ever know about it.
Cas had been given a clear record—all war crimes expunged—but in his experience, people had a long memory. People like Page would never stop suspecting him, so what reason did he have to give them the chance? He was sure once they got to the far side of Coalition space back out into non-aligned territory he’d be able to find another ship. And not a courier this time. Something much nicer.
Cas’s comm beeped. He creased his brow and glanced at Box. “I bet it’s Evie,” Box said. “She’s going to come running down the corridor at any minute and throw herself into your arms, begging to come with us.”
Cas pursed his lips. “Somehow I highly doubt that.” He tapped the comm. “Robeaux here.”
“Mr. Robeaux, you haven’t left yet?” Why would Greene be calling him?
“No, we were just about to board the Winston.”
“I need you to report back to the main officer’s ward. Admiral Sanghvi’s office. Immediately,” Greene said.
“Is there a problem?”
“Immediately, Mr. Robeaux.” He cut the comm.
That was odd. What could they still need with him? Rutledge had opted not to go to trial; everything regarding the Achlys had been wrapped up.
Cas turned to Box. “You stay here, don’t let that ship leave without us. I’m sure this won’t take but a minute,” he said.
“Fine,” Box said, pulling a screen from the crate and turning it to the closest wall. A net drama immediately popped up. “I’ll just sit here and wait. Like always.” He slumped down so he was sitting on the ground.
Cas jogged to the closest hypervator. This had to be some sort of last-minute farewell or something. He’d heard people did that sometimes…surprised their friends with a going-away party or other equally sappy gesture. Not that he wouldn’t be happy to receive it; it just seemed odd that they would wait until he was leaving to tell him. Add in the fact he didn’t have any friends meant it would be a small party. Which was fine, he wouldn’t be able to stay long anyway; the Winston would be departing within the hour. And they still needed to check in and get settled in their temporary quarters. Pryocyon was two hundred light years away; a good forty days away on a ship that wasn’t equipped with Tempest’s advanced drive.
Watching the interior of the station fly by as he transversed from the docking ports to the habitable sections, he figured most Coalition ships would probably be equipped with the drive within the next five years. It had been their only saving grace in the fight with Veena. Had the Tempest not had the speed it did Veena’s ships could have easily pursued and destroyed it. But that also meant a Claxian on every ship; something Cas was keen to see happen as he’d felt it had been a long time coming, even back when he’d still been an officer.
The hypervator doors opened on the admiral offices level and he made his way down the large corridor, reading the names on each one. This was the same level Rutledge had been stationed on. If they were throwing him some kind of going-away gathering, he could already tell it was going to leave a bad taste in his mouth. He’d hoped never to see this corridor again.
Cas reached Admiral Sanghvi’s office and touched the panel to the side.
“Come in,” a man’s deep voice said.
The doors opened to reveal the admiral himself, a tall, dark-skinned man with jet-black hair standing with his arms locked behind his back as he stared at Cas. In front of him sat Evie and Greene. There was a third chair, empty.
“Mr. Robeaux, thank you for coming on such short notice,” the admiral said, indicating he take the third seat. “We’ve been discussing your exploits in the Car’pr system. Please have a seat.”
Cas shot Evie and Greene a look but they seemed reassured he was there, not worried. “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be here,” Cas said.
“I’m sure it seems that way. However, upon speaking with Captain Greene and Commander Diazal I’ve concluded we can’t ignore your unique position in the Coalition.”
“Okay,” Cas said, taking the seat. Unique position?
“The blunt truth of why you are here is simple: Admiral Rutledge was both wrong and right.”
“I’m sorry?”
“As I’m sure you know, he was not alone in his wish to build a weapon based on Sil technology.” Sanghvi took his seat.
“I thought that was the entire reason he was arrested,” Cas said, not liking where this was going.
“What you don’t know is there was a very good reason for what he did. A few months ago, our long-range telescopes out past Starbase Five at the edge of Coalition space detected something we’re calling Andromeda. We know they are an alien species and we know they are incredibly destructive and that’s about it. And they are headed for our region of space and will arrive in about a year. And so, based on my conversations with your colleagues here, and your unique position in this situation we’ve decided to bring you back into the fold. The question is: are you willing to help the Coalition? Are you willing to help defend us against this threat?”
Cas couldn’t believe it. An alien presence? And they were heading for Coalition space?
“I know you said you wanted the quiet life.” Evie grinned. “But this seemed like more your style.”
Cas returned her gaze, then glanced at Greene, whose face was still, yet his mouth was upturned at the corners. It looked like he wouldn’t be headed to Pryocyon after all.
Cas returned his attention to the admiral. “Tell me everything.”
Thank you for reading CASPIAN’S FORTUNE! If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on AMAZON. And look for future installments in the series! The easiest way to keep up is to sign up on my website, and you get access to all the INFINITY’S END short stories, absolutely free!
The adventure continues in TEMPEST RISING. Turn the page for a sneak preview!
TEMPEST RISING: INFINITY’S END BOOK 2
PREVIEW
Caspian Robeaux wasn’t used to this.
Typically when he sat at a bar and drank himself into a stupor the place was a seedy hole-in-the-wall; the type of place where illegal transactions were the norm and everyone who came in looked like they either wanted to fuck you or kill you. The type of place that often maintained a lingering odor of something moist but no longer ripe. Those were his places, where he went to feel comfortable. A place where he could disappear into the back wall and no one would give him another glance.
But this was not that place.
The bar was too clean, too sanitary for his likes. An automated bartender stood behind the polished wood surface separating them, waiting to take Cas’s next order. Not that he was sure there would be one. When he’d come down to the concourse to get away from it all he’d hoped he’d be able to find a place to hide out for a couple hours until he could get his head straight. But staring into the yellow eyes of the bartender as it glared back, he couldn’t help but wonder if the bartender himself was some sort of deterrent. As if he’d been placed there specifically to make the patrons uncomfortable and thus keep them from overstaying their welcome. Perhaps that was how the Coalition kept their officers from getting drunk all the time. Back when he’d still been one, he’d never ventured in a place like this. It wasn’t until after his arrest, parole and escape-slash-exile before he started frequenting imbibing establishments. And sure, maybe the Sargan Commonwealth wasn’t the safest place in the galaxy and you had to carry a blaster on your person at all times, but they knew how to set up a bar. And mix a drink.
“This tastes a little weak,” he remarked, hoping to give the machine something to do.
“I apologize, sir. Would you like me to fix you another? I can adjust—”
“Just, pour another shot in this one, will you?” Cas asked, pushing the small glass away from him.
“Yes, sir.”
Cas glanced around the rest of the bar. It was relatively empty, which didn’t surprise him. These were duty hours after all; he wouldn’t expect a bunch of Coalition officers to be skipping work to day-drink. It wasn’t their style. And that was fine with him. It was a good thing Admiral Sanghvi had called him into his office early in the day, because after his news, Cas needed something strong and he didn’t want to have to push through a throng of people to get it.
“There you go, sir,” the machine said, pushing the drink back towards him. Cas had been too distracted to actually watch and see if he had added anything substantial to the glass or not. He picked it up and gave it a swirl before knocking the contents back into his throat, nearly coughing on the burn. “Better?” the bartender asked.
Cas cleared his throat as the warmth traveled down his esophagus where it disappeared into the acid of his stomach. “Yeah. One more just like that.”
“I’m sorry, sir. You have reached your daily allotment. You may return for another in seventeen hours, fifteen minutes.” The bartender picked up the empty glass and it disappeared below the other side of the bar.
He should have expected this. “Fine. Then I’ll take a bottle for the road.” Cas glanced up to the hundreds of bottles of liquid perched on shelves behind the bartender, each varying in color and label. Alcohol from all over the Coalition.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the machine repeated. “But b
ottles are only available for ranking officers.”
“What if I said I used to be a Lieutenant Commander, would that make any difference?” Cas asked, slightly slurring the words.
“Only current ranking officers may access alcohol stores.” The machine’s eyes blinked on and off once; an indication Cas’s question had now been reported somewhere. Ever since he’d found and modified his robotic travelling companion, Box, he’d become accustomed to their mannerisms. Where most humans just saw a machine’s eyes go out momentarily, Cas knew it was the signal that something inappropriate had happened or was about to happen, and someone needed to be notified.
He grumbled, wishing Box where here at the moment. He could shove right past the bartender and grab as many bottles as he wanted; or at least push him out of the way long enough for Cas to grab a Firebrand or Scorb.
“Is there anything else I can do for you today, sir?” the bartender asked.
Cas stood, his legs wobbling under him as he pushed himself off the stool. “I guess not,” he replied, automatically preparing to reach over to pay. He withdrew his hand at the last moment, remembering where he was. The Coalition worked without money. Service is its own reward. The mantra had been drilled into his head from the academy. But experiencing life outside the Coalition had shown him a different reality. One where people were motivated by money, and greed, and the accumulation of goods. And sure, sometimes maybe someone got a little overzealous and put out a hit on someone for not paying their bill, or stole someone else’s transport to sell for spare parts, but were things really worse in the Sargan Commonwealth than in the Coalition? If you really stripped everything down wasn’t a little bit of murder and theft worth being able to drink as much as you wanted at eleven hours past on a Selday?
Cas’s communicator beeped. “Boss?”
“Speak of the devil,” Cas said, tapping the small device on his arm.
“I’ve been pinging you for the last hour. The Winston left without us,” Box said on the other end.
