“Because…” The ensign looked to his crewmates. Some looked away. Some just shrugged. “Because there’s… because we have a moon.”
“No, Ingman,” Antarius said to Ensign Intan before turning to stare out the window for a dramatically long moment. “Not because we have a moon. Because there is always a ray of hope. Lunar or otherwise. Because when things seem bleakest, the opportunity for greatness is at its peak. Because when hope is at its lowest, the story that follows is sure to be the most inspiring. A story that captures the imagination and blows gently on the kindling of spirits everywhere to stoke a roaring fire of defiance in the heart of even the biggest coward. But most importantly, and more pragmatically, because I have a plan.”
He hoped the moonlight was catching his good side. He felt that proper lighting was at least 50% of a speech’s effectiveness. And he needed his crew to be moved to action. He counted several beats before turning back to his crew. This ensured that the importance of his words had time to set in.
“Now, if this plan is going to succeed, hopelessness isn’t an option. I can’t have mopers, naysayers or gloomy Gusses fouling things up. I’m looking at you, Ingman. We all need to be positive and confident that my plan will only result in success. Acknowledging that failure is even a thing is a sure step on the way to failure. Now, if we can agree that being all pissy isn’t going to be helpful, we can start working together to get me out of here.”
Reynolds looked at Intan, who only shrugged. The young ensign looked back to the captain. “You meant to say all of us, right, Captain?”
“Not at all, Reynolds. It may be a tough pill to swallow, but our best chance at rescue is to get me out of here, very alone, at which point I can find that son of a bitch alien, strangle him for the deaths of Johnson, Sargsyan and the lost souls of the Peacebringer, and then come back and free the rest of you.”
“Why can’t we all just escape together?” Reynolds asked. “Wouldn’t we stand a better chance?”
“That’s ensign-level thinking, Ensign. And a little selfish of you if I’m being honest. But it’s not your fault. It’s what you’ve been trained for. To think small and one dimensionally. But what we need here is a captain-level plan.”
“But, Captain,” Stendak said. “Even if we get out of this cell, we’re still stuck on Shandor.”
“That’s only because Reynolds here didn’t let me finish explaining my plan. After I find that son of a bitch alien and strangle him for the deaths of Johnson and Sargsyan and the others, but before I come rescue the rest of you, I’ll find a communications center, array, station or something like that and let the Alliance know that I’ve been taken captive. They will then, no doubt, send a rescue party to save me. They do every time.”
“You meant to save us,” Nowak said.
The captain ruffled the young woman’s hair. “That’s adorable, Novak.”
“None of that matters if you can’t get out of this cell,” Konditti said.
“Getting out of the cell is never the problem.” Antarius reached behind him and grabbed the iron bar in the cell’s window. He then flexed his considerable muscle. Under a protest of clangs and whining, the bar began to bend aside. Antarius grunted only a bit and the bar was out of the way. He turned back to his team. They were wearing the appropriate expressions of disbelief.
“Old cells are easy to escape from. It’s making sure no one knows that you’ve gone missing that’s the problem. That’s why this next part of my plan is so brilliant.”
It was most likely his incredible feat of strength that changed the attitude in the prison cell. The men and women of his crew sat up and he saw hope in their new posture. A little muscle went a long way in restoring hope to the hopeless.
Antarius continued his plan. “Now, they’ve left the bodies of our fallen comrades here. And to many that may seem like a negative. It’s sad, it’s unsanitary, Johnson is starting to bloat, and I don’t want to seem culturally insensitive here but Sargysan smelled funny to begin with. Mostly because of his weird diet, but the rigor mortis isn’t going to make it any better. However, Ensign Ingman, I choose to see this as a positive. You may see the cell half empty because of the corpses. I choose to see it half full because it is those very corpses that are going to help us get home. Allow me to demonstrate.”
The captain propped Johnson’s body up against the wall and removed the dead man’s uniform. He then took off his own uniform and put it on Johnson. Next, he did his best to put a dashing grin on the dead man’s face. Once he was satisfied, he stepped back and let the crew see his handy work.
“And there you have it,” Antarius said, unable to hide the pride from a job well done.
“There we have what?” Intan asked.
“Johnson.” Antarius waved a hand back toward the body. “He looks just like me.”
“Sir, he looks nothing like you,” Stendak said.
“Not even a little bit,” Nowak agreed with a shake of her head.
Antarius studied the corpse. The smile wasn’t quite right, he’d admit. Johnson always was a frowner and didn’t leave him much to work with. The man was also a brunette instead of a blonde. And he may have been Asian. But Antarius was confident the aliens would buy it. “It will be close enough. I’m sure we all look alike to them anyway. Lousy racist aliens.”
“I don’t think they’re going to buy it, sir,” Reynolds said.
“Well, that’s because I haven’t finished. Obviously. Reynolds, come over here.”
“I’m not really comfortable with this, sir,” Reynolds said. “It seems wrong.”
“And what’s wrong about it?” the captain asked.
“Desecrating a corpse, sir.” Reynolds said.
“You’re exactly right,” Antarius said with a laugh. “Of course it’s wrong, Reynolds. It’s disgusting. It’s immoral. It’s horrid. And therein lies the brilliance of my plan.”
Intan raised a hand. “I don’t understand, Captain.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t, Ingman.”
“Would you mind elaborating, sir?” Intan asked.
Thurgood’s first instinct was to mock the small ensign, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t the young man’s fault he couldn’t see the genius. This was a captain-level plan, after all. It was his job to help them see his brilliance. He pointed at the Johnson/Thurgood prop. “Only a monster would do something like this,” he explained.
“Agreed,” said everyone.
“Well, we are clearly not monsters now are we, Ingman? We are the good guys. This is the last thing they’d expect from a good guy. Now get over here, Ingman. I need you to work Johnson’s body like a puppet.”
“What?!” Intan shouted.
“Oh, calm down. You don’t have to put your hand up anything, I just need you to pretend that he’s me or these alien freaks are going to see right through our whole dead Johnson plan.” He led the ensign against the wall and lowered him next to the Johnson/Thurgood dead body/puppet. He put the young man’s arm over the body’s shoulder and stepped back to examine the setup.
“Good. That’s good. Now, let me hear your impression of me.”
Intan stiffened and shot a worried glance to Konditti. “I don’t… I don’t have an impression of you, sir. I would never—”
Antarius laughed and gave the ensign a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Ingman. There’s no need to be shy. Impersonating our superior officers is a time-honored tradition in the fleet. Why, I used to do a spot-on impression of my commander, Captain Dashnell, myself.”
The captain cleared his throat before speaking. He straightened up and looked off into the distance. “Hi, my name is Captain Dashnell. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll probably get us all killed, but that’s okay, because I’m a captain.” He relaxed and looked at Stendak. “Pretty good, right? I’ve still got it.”
“That didn’t sound like her at all,” Stendak said. “That just sounded exactly like you.”
“Did it?” Antarius thought
back on his impression. “It seemed right… oh, I almost forgot.” He straightened up and looked off into the distance again. This time he put a hand over his right eye and said, “Hi, my name is Captain Dashnell. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll probably get us all killed, but that’s okay, because I’m a captain.” He lowered his hand and looked back at Stendak.
“That sounded the exact same,” she said.
“Yeah, but the…” Antarius covered his eye again.
“What is that?”
“Old battleaxe had an eye patch, remember. It was a good look, but you did not want her looking at you without it.”
“Sir,” Stendak said. “Captain Dashnell wasn’t missing an eye.”
“Wasn’t she?”
“No.”
“Then who am I thinking of?”
“I don’t—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He turned back to Intan. “Ingman, let me hear your me.”
“Um, hi, I’m Captain Thurgood and…” Intan was still visibly nervous and he looked to his crewmates for support. But the more he pretended to be the captain, the more confidence he gained. “I’m Captain Thurgood. I’m so smart. I’m so strong. I’m the best. I’m the greatest.”
“My God, man,” Antarius said, and slapped Intan on the shoulder. “That’s uncanny. You’ve captured my confidence perfectly. I knew you could do it, Ensign.”
“My dad is the richest man in the galaxy, so I don’t have to be responsible for anything I do or say. I’m dumb enough to think that people like me for who I am instead of all the money and influence I have.”
“Okay, you’ve, uh, you’ve got it down. That’s enough.”
“I’ve never had to work for anything in my whole life. My head is so far up my—”
“Okay, there’s a fine line between good-spirited ribbing and just being a dick, Ingman. But, all in all, good job. So, when the guards come by you pretend to be me through Johnson here. That way they won’t notice I’m out there revenge-choking gray-faced alien jerks.”
“But if I’m being you, won’t they think I’m missing?” Intan asked.
“Haha. That’s cute.”
“He’s serious, Captain.” Stendak had always been closer to the crew than he was, so he trusted her judgment when it came to things like this.
“Of course. My plan accounts for that.” Antarius said, searching the cell with his eyes. “Reynolds, pick up Sargsyan’s body and make him look like Ingman. Ingman, take off your clothes.”
Reynolds made no move to disguise the body. Instead he crossed his arms and developed a bad attitude about the whole situation. “What if they think I’m missing, sir?”
“Look, I know what you’re suggesting, Reynolds,” Antarius said. “And I must say, I’m disgusted. We’re not going to kill Konditti just so Novak can pretend to be you. That would be wrong.”
“I highly doubt that’s what he was suggesting, sir,” Stendak said.
“No, I was,” Reynolds said. “I hate Konditti.”
“Well, who doesn’t?” the captain said. “But Konditti’s shortcomings, while plentiful, are beside the point.”
“Hey,” Konditti said in protest. But it was the entirety of his defense.
“Look, everyone. If we just stick to the dead body puppet plan, I’ll get out of here, strangle that son of a bitch alien for what he did to Johnson and everyone else, let the Alliance know I’ve been taken captive again and get back here to rescue you all without any problems.”
His orders given, he saluted his crew and moved toward the window.
“Sir, aren’t you going to get dressed?”
He turned back to see Stendak holding up Johnson’s uniform.
“You’re half naked sir.”
“That’s an ensign’s uniform, Stendak. I’m a captain. Besides, I’m pretty sure he pooped in it when they shot him.”
Antarius Thurgood turned and pulled himself into the window. Another stupid moon was setting or rising or cresting or crashing, but it was close enough to light the city of Kartoka beneath him. And it was ugly. He groaned at the sight and reached for one of the banners that hung from the tower for the First Contact ceremony ruse. It would be the key to their freedom. Ironic, Antarius thought. Then he wondered if he was using ironic correctly as he stepped out into the night.
9
The ride up from Quito was as uneventful as always. Cason used to watch out the ports as the Earth grew smaller beneath him. It was a fascination he held onto longer than most. But now, like everyone around him, he used the time during the space elevator’s ascent to catch up on work.
Usually it was going over a plan, or digging for more intelligence, but now he used the time to play back every time in his life he had been close to catching the legendary criminal Oncilla. Was it possible he had seen her before? Had he gotten that close? No, if he had seen her before he was certain he would remember. She was certainly memorable. After playing back a half dozen scenarios on a half dozen planets, he felt safe in saying he’d never set eyes on her before today.
She occupied his thoughts as the elevator completed its ascent and announced its arrival at the Michael Bay Memorial Spaceport.
The Arthur C. Clarke Memorial Spaceport over Kenya had been a marvel of engineering and scientific breakthrough. It was a symbol of the rekindled pioneer spirit as mankind’s frontier moved to the stars. Over time, it slowly aged into a mainstay of life in an interplanetary alliance, and eventually it matured from convenience to just another annoying hassle in the daily business of travel. But it would always hold a place in history as a breakthrough in engineering and an important footnote in mankind’s development.
The Michael Bay Memorial Spaceport, however, had never enjoyed such grand distinctions. It was an annoyance from day one. Having a second spaceport in orbit had relieved congestion for a time, but it wasn’t long until the traffic grew to fill the space and most travelers’ memories of time in the spaceport were of staring vacantly at the chaos and getting tipsy at a Chili’s 3 until their jump.
Its layout made very little sense, and the pace on board the Michael Bay was frantic and nearly impossible to follow. People raced about with seemingly no direction in mind. There were so many voices that conversation was impossible to follow. When you did happen to hear a distinguishable phrase, it was so lost in the din that it made no sense at all.
Cason held his breath and stepped into the throng. He walked quickly to avoid being caught up in the tide. He passed families on their way to vacation, their children’s eyes filled with wonder and excitement at their first space flight. He passed business travelers who were annoyed that all the damn families were in their way because they weren’t as experienced or as jaded as business travelers.
It wasn’t much different than an airport or hypertube station back on the surface. The lines were just as frustrating and the water was just as overpriced. About the only difference was that there were more flashing lights and every one of them beeped.
The variety of life that filled the station was astounding. Creatures from across the Alliance filled the halls and, outside of Agora itself, Cason struggled to think of a place that better represented the diversity of the galaxy.
Aliens of all shapes, sizes, colors and smells moved between the gates of the Michael Bay on their way to a thousand destinations.
Earth was hardly the prettiest planet in the EA. Many civilizations had been contacted early in their development and were able to avoid some of the missteps humanity had taken on its way to the stars. Because of this, pristine planets were rife in the Alliance and made attractive and exotic destinations.
But Earth was still the center of it all, and that simple fact made it a top tourist destination. A trip to the capital topped the bucket list of aliens everywhere—even in civilizations where they knew nothing of buckets. The core world was a prime destination for vacations and study abroad trips across the galaxy.
And no visitor left without first stopping in the dut
y-free stores. All but the most hardened veterans of the souvenir industry were shocked to find that snow globes had a near-universal appeal. Some races appreciated the artistry of the tchotchkes while others delighted in the kitsch nature of the tiny memoirs. The Gracians of the Tarnok moons loved them for their taste.
T-shirts in all sizes and multiple armhole configurations were everywhere. Coffee mugs and spoons were popular even among species that didn’t have mouths. But the most popular item by far was the maple syrup, and many made the trip to Earth’s spaceports for no other reason than to restock their pantry with this epicurean rarity.
Cason was disturbed by some of the species he spotted among the crowd on the Michael Bay. A group of royal Slandithkandorikans that caught his eye was especially worrying. Their physiology made travel to Earth uncomfortable if not outright painful. Their presence, and that of several other aliens rarely seen outside of their home systems, demonstrated just how much of an impact the events on Shandor were having on the Alliance. Delegates from all of the worlds were arriving from across the galaxy.
EAF officers and personnel were also here in greater numbers than normal. A quick glance out the viewscreen told Cason why. Several Fleet vessels were docked outside the station, and many more were moving into position in what had to be the largest gathering of Alliance vessels outside of fleet week. Inside, Alliance personnel made up half the crowd and it was almost impossible to move through the halls without bumping into one. He hadn’t seen this many fleet uniforms in one place since his own days in the academy.
“Ensign Maze?” The voice was friendly and familiar.
Cason turned to see an officer pointing at him from a seat at a bar called Parallax Lens Flare.
“I thought that was you,” the officer smiled and stood before waving Maze over to the table.
Shattered Alliance Page 7
