by C. S. Harte
Dren paced around the bridge while Alyana tapped furiously away on the console. He wanted to help her but had no idea how. His stomach churned; time was running out. Should the weapon fire, the Valor would be disabled at the star dock, and their attempt at escape would be over. “Samara,” Dren turned to her in the captain’s chair. “Can you do your mind control on the marines? Make them not fire?”
“There are many of them, and I have yet to fully recover.” Samara rested her eyes.
“Captain, what can I do to help?” Dren sat in the tactical station chair.
“I’ve been trying to bypass all the lockouts, but nothing is working.” Alyana slammed her fist on the terminal.
A new warning flashed on Dren’s console. He cleared the message to see red dots populating his monitor. “Captain Harrows…”
“I see them.” She groaned. “They’re setting up a blockade at the exit, with defense drones.”
“I count dozens of them…” More dots appeared every few seconds. What if death isn’t the worst thing to happen to me? He checked the weapons status of the Valor — full complement of missiles. “I’m not letting them capture me.”
Alyana glanced at Dren. “I… Same here,” her voice faltered. “I’ve seen what Jonas can do to people he truly wanted to hurt. We’re better off dead…”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dren tasted a sourness in his mouth as he asked.
“We sort of… Just met,” Alyana shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, actually.”
“We will not perish today,” Samara said, her voice stirring with conviction. “Dren Arvol. You have a solution in your mind. Let it reveal itself.”
“I don’t…” Dren scratched his cheek. “I wish I did. Really…”
Samara sighed. She brought two fingers to her temples.
Instantly, Dren’s whole body seized with his head tilting upward.
“What are you doing to him?” Alyana screamed.
“He is not being harmed,” Samara answered while keeping her focus on Dren.
Memories flooded Dren’s mind, but they were not his memories. Like watching a movie through someone else’s eyes. This person, whose body Dren seemed to possess, was alone, strolling casually to the tactical station of a bridge similar in configuration to that of the Valor. Once at the station, he typed a series of commands into the terminal. Without realizing it, Dren copied the same instructions with his fingers into the Valor’s terminal.
“What did you just do?” Alyana asked while staring at Dren with her mouth open. “The navigation console just unlocked…”
An explosion shook the Valor. Red alert lights illuminated, klaxons blared.
The marines fired their weapon.
“That wasn’t an EMP device…” Dren said. “There’s usually no explosion…”
“It looked like an EMP weapon!” Alyana retorted. “So I’m wrong. I don’t steal Fleet ships on a regular basis — this is only my second one!”
“Fire suppression activated,” Dren said, tapping away on his console.
“Now that I have command access again, I’m setting up containment fields.” She glanced at Dren. “Hopefully, that’ll buy us some time before they board. Toasting engines now!”
“Working on releasing docking clamps,” Dren said.
“Have you piloted a ship before?” Alyana asked. “You seem to know a lot about Zephyr-class ships.”
“This is my first time on board one… I think…”
“You could’ve fooled me. And most of the time, I’m not easily fooled.” She smirked. “Using emergency cold start protocols. 60 seconds before we can finally punch out.”
“What about the drones?” Samara asked. “Does your cloak not disguise the ship from them?”
“Well, those are Fleet drones, and this is a Fleet ship…” Alyana wrinkled her nose. “Voids!” She updated the viewscreen.
The Anaheim, New York, and Seattle, three Dagger-class cruisers joined the blockade, waiting behind the mines.
“I don’t know how we can get past the drones and three Fleet ships with cold-started engines.” Alyana frowned. “At best, we only have one-half ion speed. We’re not going to outrun them…”
“One problem at a time,” Dren said.
“Working on docking clamps; 30 seconds ‘til engine start.” Alyana furrowed her brow. “Now to tackle the drone blockade and the three Dagger-class ships…”
“We will succeed in our escape,” Samara said.
Alyana glanced back at her. “You obviously know something I don’t or have remarkably unshakable confidence.”
A second movie played in Dren’s mind. His fingers glided across his terminal once again copying the commands from his memories.
Another explosion rocked the ship.
“Containment fields down!” Alyana yelled. “We’re gonna have a lot of angry marines soon!”
“Now they are closer, I will take responsibility for slowing them down,” Samara stumbled as she rose out of her chair.
“Samara!” Alyana yelled. “Are you OK?”
“I am fine,” Samara said. “We have come too far to end our journey here. It has been several cycles since my last regeneration.”
“10 seconds…” Alyana returned her attention to the ship’s engines. “C’mon, please heat up… We’re so close.”
Dren felt faint, his vision blurred. Since the memories rolled into his mind, his body had been a stranger to him. As his hands kept entering commands into the terminal, he realized he couldn’t stop the movement of his fingers. It was a surreal feeling, watching his hands move without first registering the action in his brain. With each passing second, he felt more adrift in his own body. Dren heard a distant voice talking to him, sounding like Alyana. It seemed feeble and distorted like she was yelling underwater.
Pain flared on Dren’s cheek after Alyana slapped him with all her strength. He rubbed his eyes until his vision cleared. “Was that necessary?”
“You weren’t responding.” She shrugged. “And I have a lot of frustration right now. Where did you go?”
“I…”
“Tell me later, we’ve overstayed our welcome.” Alyana powered up the ion engines to half-strength.
The Valor sped away from the dock.
“Hey, Magic Fingers,” Alyana snorted. “You said you’re taking care of the drones?”
“I think so…” Dren wrinkled his brow. “I don’t really know…”
“Well, there’s no turning back now…”
Samara lurched onto the bridge and fell onto her knees.
Dren ran to her and lifted the alien into the captain’s chair. “What happened?”
“The little humans ran away from me,” she said. “I projected an infestation of Methua spiders into their minds.”
Dren chuckled. “As a marine, I can tell you alien spiders and marines definitely don’t mix.”
“25,000 meters until we reach the drone blockade,” Alyana said. “Moment of truth for you, Happy Hands.”
The comm system activated.
“We’re being hailed by the lead cruiser,” Dren said.
“Audio only,” Alyana ordered. “No video.”
“This is Admiral Tersimm of the Anaheim. I hereby order you to stand down. Turn off your engines, deactivate your cloak, and stand down.”
“Are you going to respond, Captain?” Dren asked.
Alyana shook her head. “There’s nothing I can say that will change his mind. You don’t want to be the one to deliver bad news to Jonas.”
15,000 meters.
“Don’t you have proof Fleet Marshal Barick is a traitor? That an alien entity has taken over his mind? Wouldn’t the admiral want to hear something like that?”
“It’s more likely Jonas has proof I’m a traitor. Evidence is way too easy to fabricate, and humans will believe anything a person in power tells them. I can’t go to Admiral Tersimm or anyone else without something more concrete.”
“Captain Harrows,” Admiral Tersimm continued. “You have an exemplary service record, and you helped us greatly at the Battle of Final Hope. It is the only reason we haven’t fired upon you. However, that courtesy only extends so far.”
“Just need to extend it a bit farther…” Alyana mumbled. “Cut off comms with the Anaheim,” she instructed Dren.
10,000 meters.
As the Valor neared the drone net, the array of drones powered their weapons, producing a hypnotic flashing sequence of scarlet lights in a grid pattern.
“Dren…” Alyana said his name slowly in a dragged-out, accusatory tone. “Maybe we should arm weapons now.”
“If we do, those Fleet ships will obliterate us,” Dren said. “Samara…” he turned around to see her fast asleep. She’s been pushed past her limit.
5,000 meters.
“We’re in firing range of the drones.” Alyana turned toward Dren. “In case we don’t make it, answer something for me.”
“What?”
“How did you override all the lockouts?”
“I um…” Dren stared at his hands. “I don’t really know how to explain it.”
“Of course,” Alyana sighed. “No one ever explains anything to me. I’m just a side character in all of this.”
Dren shifted in his chair. “Really, I don’t know. So I can’t give you an explanation. Samara did something to my memories. At least, I think they were my memories…”
The Valor reached the drone’s attack perimeter.
“They’re not firing, Dren!” Alyana leaped out of her chair. “The drones are ignoring us!” She punched his arm in excitement.
“But the ships behind them are charging their weapons.” He pointed at the viewscreen.
“Voids!” Alyana hopped back into her seat. “Raise shield!”
“Shields up.”
Hundreds of cobalt-blue lasers crisscrossed the space between the drones and the Fleet ships. The drones fired on the Fleet cruisers and not the Valor.
“Hold on, I’m changing course.” Alyana steered the Valor hard to port. “I’m making a run through the blockade, while they’re distracted. Did you program the drones to attack the cruisers? That’s…” She beamed a smile at him. “Genius actually. I had my doubts about you. I’m glad I got you reshelled.”
“Thanks, but…” Dren rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what I did exactly…”
The mass of drones easily overpowered the three Dagger-class cruisers, disabling them.
“Setting a course for Earth.”
The Valor made it past the blockade.
No ships pursued them.
The barrier of mines attacked any Fleet vessel that neared them.
“Captain Harrows…” Dren said.
“Yeah?”
“What’s the plan beyond making it to Earth? You have a plan, right? It wasn’t just escape and make it up as we go?”
“Of course I have a plan beyond just escaping.” She scoffed. “My plan was to stay alive. So far, so good. I knew if I didn’t leave the station, Jonas would’ve imprisoned or murdered me.”
“While staying alive is a good thing to do, it’s not really a plan.”
“Oh, you’re looking for details of the plan. I don’t have those yet.” Alyana grinned. “Samara mentioned an alien ship we need to find. Alien respective to both Chorda and humans.”
“I know which ship you’re talking about. One of my previous missions was to scout an alien ship in the Abren system, UNID-203. We all died, but we found something strange that had to be related.”
“Strange has a different meaning in the post-Mimic universe. You will have to clarify.”
“I found a room with some weird tribute to the Fleet Marshal… At least I think it was a tribute. I actually don’t know what I found.”
“That sounds creepy.” Alyana shuddered. “Do you remember the coordinates?”
“Not exactly, but it should be in the mission logs.”
“Which we no longer have access to… Great.” She sighed. “For now, we’ll head to Earth. Samara said she has allies there we can trust to help us.”
“There’s something else, Captain.”
“What?” She raised her eyebrows.
“When I was… reprogramming the drones, I came across a hidden video.”
“Of what?” Alyana blushed. “It better not be something embarrassing of me. What a person does when she’s alone on a ship should not be counted against her!”
“No, nothing like that. According to the time stamp, it was created immediately after the Battle of Final Hope. I didn’t watch the whole video — just the first few seconds. The Fleet Marshal was in it. He was…” Dren shook his head. “It was brutal. Like how you described his violence before. See for yourself.”
Alyana crossed her arms. “Well, show me already!”
18
After the Blessing of the Guardians event passed, there was an intruder alert on the Valor. Jonas wanted to investigate the danger by himself citing his concerns for her safety. Alyana wouldn’t have it, offering to go with him for his sake and for her own selfish reason — she didn’t want to be alone. Jonas returned a look Alyana would never forget; wide eyes, bared teeth, corded neck, and flared nostrils — pure rage. Immediately, she backed off her request. Something told her the bridge would be the safest place. While it frightened her, Alyana understood the intensity of the moment. They had just won the Battle of Final Hope but at the cost of all their friends. Jonas still had Whisper’s blood on his hands and uniform.
The ship’s internal cameras were disabled. Alyana couldn’t follow Jonas on the security video feeds. It never occurred to her to diagnose the issue as the problem rectified itself when Jonas returned to the bridge. He then promptly recapped his dialogue with Roni. According to Jonas, an alien entity tried to take over Roni’s body but ended up killing her instead. “The end,” he said. Was that all a lie?
The past five years offered a new perspective to Alyana. She never considered how fragile Jonas’ psyche was. His soul was shattered, pulled in one extreme direction after another ever since the start of Mimic Wars. Such torture would have left scars on even the strongest of egos.
Dren mentioned the video had a gruesome edge to it. Try as she might, she could not clean from her mind the animalistic violence against poor Captain Belmont. Blood stained every corner of the bridge that day and left a permanent scar in her memory.
“Play the video on the main viewscreen,” Alyana ordered Dren. She unconsciously held her breath as the monitor changed.
Jonas entered the brig by himself with no signs of any intruders. Roni, the Entrent prisoner, was asleep in her cell behind the containment force field barrier. Her head perked up as he approached.
Jonas lowered the barrier. As soon as it dropped, he charged at her like a raging bull. He held her down with one hand while the other delivered vicious blow after blow, not stopping until Roni’s face transitioned into a loose mass of bloody pulp. The ferocity of the punches suggested his strength neuromod was active.
After the showing of extreme violence, Jonas sat next to her. His knees were drawn into his chest, his hands covered his face. As his fingers fanned open, Alyana saw a change in his expression. Gone was the cruel intent to kill, replaced by a malicious smile. As if his brutal murder was a fun game he had just played. His head tilted upward, and he began talking to someone, something off camera. Nothing on his face suggested grief or remorse. Instead, his lips twisted into a smile as he spoke.
Alyana tucked these series of events deep in her mind. It angered her that she was forced to dig them up. She had no reason to distrust Jonas’ explanation of Roni’s death, and she had no empathy for the empath. Roni was a sadistic Entrent who committed a cardinal sin; she tortured her friend, Meomi, entombing her under several levels of illusions, forever distorting Meomi’s sense of reality.
Who are you, Jonas? Are you the hero who saved me more times than I can count, the hero o
f humanity in the war against Mimics? Or are you this rage-filled monster that takes pleasure in killing? In her mind, Alyana had an answer, and she hoped she was wrong. Being wrong meant her friend was capable of saving. Perhaps the loss of Whisper, Quip, and Meomi was too much to bear. Alyana rathered his mind be broken. That would at least be understandable and rational — possibly fixable. The alternative, as explained by Samara, was that some unexplained, unknowable evil had taken over his mind and body.
Mentally, Alyana knew no one stronger than Jonas. For him to survive years of death-row imprisonment after losing his family, his crew, and his friends, only to endure even more suffering, was cruelty on an unfathomable scale. Alyana’s heart ached for her former friend. No one should have to go through a fraction of what Jonas went through.
The video ended abruptly.
Everyone on the bridge of the Valor sat in silence.
Alyana was lost in thought, wondering if there was anything she could have done differently; if she could have prevented some of Jonas’ pain. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. A dull sensation formed in her stomach as she reflected. Could I have done more for Jonas? Been there for him when he needed me most? A second line of inquiry bubbled up in her consciousness. “This is the actual video?” Alyana whispered. “You didn’t fabricate anything? Anyone can doctor evidence…”
Dren grimaced. “Why would I make it up?”
“Wait… No…” She wagged her finger at Dren. “There was no video that day. The internal cameras were down. I thought the intruder disabled them.,,”
“He is telling you the truth, Alyana Harrows,” Samara said.
“Then someone needs to explain how this video exists.” She grabbed Dren by the shoulders. “Where did you find this recording? You’ve only been alive for a year. The events happened five years ago. Explain that to me!”
“I…” Dren raised his hands, palms forward, in surrender. “I can’t explain it. I just knew it was there.”
“What do you know?” Alyana moved toward Samara. “How are you so sure Dren isn’t lying?”
“More than one voice speaks to me from inside Dren Arvol’s mind.”
