by Taylor Smith
Ronald nodded. “Correct. Every commander of this station is buried there, and your father deserves the same. I recommend that you leave tomorrow and get it done. Not to discount the importance of burying your father, but you’re needed back here more than ever.”
Cade looked to Andy again to see a slight nod of acceptance to what Ron was asking. The older man wanted them to hurry, but Cade would make sure all respects were paid to Mallian. Andy would need a lot of help for the foreseeable future and Cade promised to be there for him.
“Secondly,” Ron continued, then paused to glance at Cade as if he wasn’t sure about something, then returned his gaze to Andy. “We’ve contacted your mother,” he finally spat out.
“You what?” Andy said suddenly, and very loudly.
Cade’s head whipped back to Andy. Of the three years he’s known Andy, even as a brother, he’s never spoken of his mother. Cade had always wondered, but never pried. He always assumed she’d died, more than likely aboard the Night’s Pride where Mallian had lost his other two children. Now he was curious, and looked back to Ron who held an air of fear on his face.
“Why… in all of hell… did you contact her?” Andy asked. His question sounded more like shock than anger. “She’s not coming here, is she?”
Cade watched Andy in pure curiosity. There was a hint of fear in Andy’s eyes and voice that Cade might not have noticed if he didn’t know the man so well. “What does this mean?” he asked, keeping his gaze on Andy.
Ron shrugged. “We didn’t have a choice, Andy. Mallian left strict instructions: Upon his death, we’re to immediately contact her and tell her…” he paused and glanced to Cade again.
“What does this mean?” Cade asked again.
“Tell her what?” Andy asked, seeming not to hear Cade.
Ron sighed and simply said, “Hlin.”
Andy’s head fell. He reached up slowly, rubbed his forehead and said, “So she’s coming.”
“Hey!” Cade shouted, causing the other men in the room to jump. “What does this mean?” he asked more forcefully, finally at his wit’s end.
Andy shook his head. “Sorry, Cade. There’s a lot that you don’t know. Not because I don’t trust you, but because of how volatile the information is. I need to figure this out first.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.” Cade said and stood from his chair. “If you want me here, great. Fill me in! If you’re going to talk circles around me and ignore my questions then you can go screw yourselves.”
“You’re right,” Andy said with a weary look on his face. “It’s an unfair situation on a really bad day. Give us some time to figure this out, and I promise I’ll fill you in on the details.”
Cade stared at Andy for a moment and then nodded. He felt his anger drain slightly and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Ping me if you need me,” he said, and then left the room, headed for the stations’ hospital. “I’m going to get my head checked out.”
***
Cade slammed the door to his quarters on the eighth floor of Clew Station and sat heavily on the small couch. His mood was foul and was getting fouler by the minute. The news from the doctors didn’t help abate his sour mood, either. He just needed rest.
He rarely used his quarters aboard the station. He didn’t get home much. The Reaper was undergoing maintenance that would last throughout the night, so he couldn’t go aboard. That ship was more of a home to him now than the station.
Normal maintenance on a cruiser at Clew would usually last about eight hours. The docks were short-handed right now, however, with most of the technicians working on repairing the station itself. So he came here.
His apartment was big, but Spartan. He didn’t keep anything here except several extra sets of clothes and a toothbrush. It held many shelves with nothing in them, and a full kitchen without even one pot or plate. The living area was small with seating for at least four and a screen that he’d activated only twice. At least it had a bed, and that’s just what he needed now.
Oddly enough, the screen was subtly flashing. Cade sighed and glared at the screen which indicated that at least one message awaited him. “Message list,” he said and leaned back in attempt to get comfortable.
The computer displayed several lines of messages that he hadn’t been able to check since disembarking the Reaper. The newest was a message from the hospital he’d just visited. He ignored it out of spite. The second message was his receipt from the restaurant he’d swung by before going to the hospital, so he skipped it, too. The third and oldest message was strange; there was no sender or subject. “Access new message three,” he said and sat straighter in curiosity.
His eyes narrowed at the body of the message which held only two lines. The first line was a set of coordinates, time, date and course near the Kosta System. Kosta wasn’t aligned yet, which was good, but there were rumors that they were considering it. As far as Cade knew, though, it was still non-aligned territory.
The coordinates themselves were very similar to the system they used for shoving loot into space. Somewhere, near the Kosta System, something floated between the stars. More loot? A ship, perhaps? Whatever it was, this information would tell him how to find it. The date concerned him, though, as it was roughly fifteen years ago.
The second line of the message shocked him. It read: “Keep to yourself. Message 2 of 2. Mallian.” He felt a sudden pang of loss, and realized he hadn’t properly mourned for his adoptive father yet.
A chime filled the air that announced someone was at his door, and he quickly shut the screen down.
Cade shot out of the couch in hopes it was Andy, ready to fill him in on his mysterious mother situation. It had been several hours since he left the conference room, and his curiosity had risen to an unbearable roar ever since. Eventually he would have to tell Andy about the message from his Father, but whether that was before or after he followed the coordinates in the message, he didn’t know yet.
He opened the door and was disappointed to see Criss.
“Oh,” she said, turned half-way to leave and pointed down the hall. “I can go.”
He must have shown his disappointment way too clearly. Cade shook his head. “Sorry, today is kind of messed up. Come on in,” he said and held the door open for her. “I’d offer you something but…” he gestured around. “There’s nothing here.”
“I’m fine,” She said and looked around as she flopped onto the couch. “Wow. You weren’t kidding.”
Cade took a seat beside the couch in an armchair and propped a foot up on the small table between them. “I’m never here, so there’s no reason to stock up on anything.”
“Guess not,” she said as she gave the place another look over. “I heard from a friend of mine at the hospital that they wouldn’t activate your implant. Sorry.”
That caught him off-guard. “Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of medical privacy?”
Criss snorted with a half-laugh. “Not that I know of. Anyway, it’s only few more days and they’ll take another look. You’re really lucky that your implant took at all. I saw the scans. Jeez, that thing dug around everywhere! I’m surprised you could land the shuttle with all that going on.”
“It’s still kind of a sore subject,” he said, then wondered what she was doing at his apartment. “So, do you need something, or are you just checking up?”
Criss shrugged. “Just sayin’ hi. It’s what friends do, ya know.” She tilted her head a bit and asked, “We are friends, aren’t we? I mean, we did spend four days together in the same room on Torj Station before we swiped that sexy science ship. But I also wanted to come by and tell you how sorry I am about Mallian. I know how much he meant to you. If you need to talk…” she left the rest unsaid.
“Thanks,” he replied. He appreciated the sentiment, though he hadn’t truly grieved yet. He wondered why that was. At the mention of their time together at Torj, he couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift a little. Cade remembered it well. He smile
d and said, “Yeah, Criss. We’re friends. That was a nice break from things. I enjoyed it.”
She returned his smile and replied, “Me, too. Hey, did you check on your parent’s shop?”
He nodded. “Shambles. But I don’t have time to clean it up. We head out tomorrow morning for the old Bonnell Colony.”
“Tomorrow?” She asked and sounded slightly annoyed. “Morning? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s the plan? Who do you need aboard? The whole crew, skeleton crew or what?”
“Whoa,” he said at her outburst. She was obviously upset, but he couldn’t understand why. Cade leaned back in curiosity, and raised his hand in question. “The plan for what?”
Criss’ eyes narrowed at him, and she was quiet for a few long seconds before her brow shot up. “Seriously? You have no idea, do you?” She suddenly began laughing, and fell sideways on the couch in her enjoyment of the situation.
He simply stared at her. A smile crept across his face, and he found a short moment of joy simply watching her laugh so hard. It lifted his spirits and again he found himself wondering if they had a future together.
She finally stopped laughing and wiped her eyes. “Ok, Cade. You are probably the smartest, bravest, and definitely the most handsome man that I know.”
“Hang on…,” he said in surprise.
She held a hand up and continued before he could stop her. “But sometimes you can be extremely dim.” She laughed again at his reaction to that, then said, “No offense, but you tackle huge problems and chaos like it’s nothing. At the same time, subtle things, even things you should know out of pure common sense can hit you in the face, and you don’t even notice.”
Cade was quiet for a moment. His brain was working overtime trying to find what he’d missed. She was right in a sense: sometimes he had to be told the little things. He’d have to work on that. “Ok,” he said slowly, almost dreading what she was about to say. “Like what?”
“Well, me for starters,” she said with a telling expression. “But that’s a conversation for another day. I’m talking about the Reaper, Cade.”
Cade stared at her, his mind still grasping for clues.
Criss sighed and said, “I think I can actually see smoke coming out of your ears, so I’ll give you a hint: I’m the senior comms officer for the Reaper. One of my duties is to inform the crew when we’re going to ship out. You know, so they’ll actually be there when we ship out.”
“I know that,” Cade said. “My job on board is to know that’s your duty, and then make sure you do it. But I don’t make the schedule, or inform you of our timelines. Andy does.”
Criss said nothing, and just stared at him.
“Oh, damn,” he said as the implications of the situation dawned on him.
Criss smiled and said, “So, what’s our timeline, Captain?”
Chapter 8
“Strix-9, final approach packet sent.” The deep voice reverberated through the small cockpit. Haley didn’t respond as she knew no one would be listening.
The sleek spacecraft glided silently through the Lordell System on its way toward the type-A, main-sequence star. Type-A’s weren’t as bright as blue giants, but still emitted more than eighty times the luminosity of Adara’s sun. The Lordell solar system was industrially viable further out, but only military-grade systems could navigate closer in and protect occupants and computers from vaporizing.
Navigating close to the star was hazardous since the sun’s brilliance blinded sensors. Slamming head-on into an asteroid or any number of debris was an eventuality, unless you had help.
Haley opened the information packet and loaded the course into her ship. Lordell Base had no name. As far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned, it didn’t exist. Though it did, and floated precariously close to the bright white behemoth that filled Haley’s dimmed view screen.
Lordell Base was a small station built on the dark-side of a massive asteroid in orbit around the star. Being so close to the Type-A, no sensor could see it, but since the station faced eternally away and shielded from the intense radiation, it had a remarkable view of the rest of the solar system, and anything on approach. It could effortlessly guide her safely into the asteroid’s shadowy embrace, or impale her ship upon any number of derelicts that floated aimlessly nearby.
Strix-9’s computer chirped happily as it accepted the plot, and Haley initiated the auto-pilot. It was a strange feeling, placing your life completely into another’s hands. She wondered if when the time came for her decommission, they would simply drive her into a rock along this same course. Immediately, she knew her superiors wouldn’t do that; Strix-9 was too expensive to trash in that manner.
For several hours, Haley was simply along for the ride. There was nothing more she could do, as her ship piloted along the course outlined by Lordell Base, except stare at the view screen. The closer she travelled to the star, the darker the screen dimmed. Not that there was anything to see, however, as the external cameras were darkened to nearly one hundred percent so Haley’s eyesight would remain intact.
It was almost startling when her screen suddenly brightened to produce a scene that Haley had come to appreciate. Strix-9 had entered Lordell Base’s shadow. On her screen floated a massive asteroid, pocked with thousands of craters and framed by a dancing display of light from the system’s star directly behind it. In the very center of it all, Haley could barely make out the base, sunken into the asteroid’s surface. Only a few structures jutted outward, most lined with large viewports, but she knew the base stretched deep into the rock.
Strix-9 maneuvered toward the southern point of the base, where a protrusion of fifteen block-like docking ports extended from the surface, arranged north to south, one atop the other. Strix-9 floated toward the middle of the bays. As she neared, she recognized docking-bay nine and its flashing activity lights.
The ship slowed, almost to a stop, until its nose touched the center of the docking bay doors. The slight nudge of impact was barely felt, followed by a reverberating clank that echoed through the ship. The docking bay doors opened at its four corners to reveal the docking hook at its center that had attached to the nose of Strix-9. The hook slowly drew the craft into the bay and the doors closed behind her.
As the hook drew the ship onto its cradle, Haley began to shut the ship’s systems down. She copied all of Strix-9’s data to a small chip and, as normal, made a backup copy for herself. It was strictly against protocol but hey, they’d taught her not to trust anyone, so why should she trust them?
Recognizing the end of a mission, and the successful copy of all pertinent files, a small window appeared above the main console that read: “Initiate System Wipe?” Haley selected “Yes.”
A soft chime told her that the docking bay had been pressurized, and it was safe to exit her ship. She took another look around, knowing that in a few hours it would undergo maintenance and a complete overhaul. It never looked the same from mission to mission.
She shouldered her duffle that contained her meager possessions and exited Strix-9. She was immediately greeted by the disembodied voice of the station’s main computer. “Welcome back, Strix-Nine Actual. Do you have any priority items to report?”
She continued to make her way across the gantry to the small landing that held the main access hatch from the bay. “Cold storage, and locker three,” she said, and turned at the sound of platforms and equipment both rising from the floor and lowering from the ceiling to surround her ship.
“Destination?” the computer asked.
“Forensics lab,” she replied and turned back to the hatch. It opened to reveal her personal domain aboard Lordell Station. Level Nine was her home, but also her prison. She’d never ventured outside of her apartment. There had to be hundreds of people working aboard the station, but she’d never been allowed anywhere else. She’d never seen another man, woman or child aboard Lordell Station, save one: Harold Jonas.
He’d explained that it was for her safety and anonymity. All Stri
x Agents were, just as their missions, highly classified. “It only takes one technician to recognize you,” he’d told her, “and the gig would be up.” So she chose to enjoy the privacy of her lavish apartment instead of enduring the solitary confinement of her oversized cell.
As she entered the hallway, the soft, sad vibrato of Alexina Chorvis filled her ears. Haley enjoyed the woman’s music. She didn’t speak fluent Maloran, which was a derivative of Old German, but her songs were mostly the same; they started off sad, and then got very angry. It reminded her of her own existence.
But the fact that the music was playing meant that Jonas was already here. “Music off,” she said as she entered the main living area. The overly large space had several seating areas, along with a massive, fully stocked kitchen. Sweeping double doors led to the master suite which housed the most comfortable bed in the galaxy. It was larger than most luxury apartments in the Capital City of Adara, and the entire back wall was a real-time image of space outside the station, dimmed, of course. She knew that there were several meters of thick rock between her and the cold vacuum outside, but it was impressive nonetheless.
Harold Jonas, who’d been gazing at the starscape when she entered, turned and said, “Welcome back, Miss Marks.”
“Sir,” She replied and dropped her duffle on the large couch. There was no saluting in the Agency, so she simply retrieved a data chip from her pocket and handed it to him.
He took it without hesitation and looked at it, then to her. “You found it?” he asked with a hopeful glint in his eye.
“No, Sir,” She said without breaking eye contact. “My primary mission was a failure.” She’d dreaded saying those words. But her gut had told her to scrub her mission to bring Jerry and her equipment back for analysis. Something told her that this was more important to the Alliance.
“No?” Jonas repeated angrily, and closed his fist tightly around the chip. “Your mission, your only objective was to locate Clew Station. Why the –“. He stopped mid-sentence and took a deep breath.
