by J. N. Chaney
In addition to being new, it had a cargo bay any Renegade or space pirate would love to get their grubby little hands on. It had next gen storage equipped with self-destruct failsafes and—supposedly—unhackable security for some of the more high-risk ops we ran.
“You idiot,” Sophie said, shaking her head. Her tone lacked the bite her words implied, as did her gentle hand when she helped me remove the armor and skin suit.
“Z, can you play some music?” I asked.
“Certainly, Sergeant,” the A.I. responded with no trace of the earlier malfunction. “The usual?”
“Yeah, that’ll do,” I said through gritted teeth. All the movement made me ache even more and I allowed a small grunt to escape.
The upbeat tones of Sarpop filled the small room. It was one of the few approved music choices available on the gal-net. Everything else was either boring or blocked by the filters.
Once I was all but naked, Sophie put me on the med bed. A scanner beeped to life and began to move down the length of the bed. I didn’t like getting scanned as a rule, but there was no way she would let me skip it, so I closed my eyes and let it do its thing.
A few seconds later, the machine had returned to its starting position and my results began to appear on the monitor for Sophie to study.
“Got some cuts and bruises from your trip down the ravine. Nothing broken,” she reported. “The arm was through and through. Nasty cut from the knife though. You’re definitely going to feel the hit you took to the back.”
“Already am,” I groaned.
She snorted. “I bet. You can ice the face and back. I’ll stitch the arm and leg.”
“Lucky me. Which one first, doc?”
“Might as well do the leg,” she answered.
I rolled onto my stomach and tried to think of something else while she wiped a cold disinfecting solution on my calf. I jerked from the initial sting, but I’d been through this enough times to know the pain was temporary. A few seconds later, it subsided to a dull ache. I felt some pressure as Sophie’s skilled fingers nimbly sewed me up.
“You’ve really got to be more careful,” she scolded. “The commander brought it up when we got back. She made a comment about you being soft.”
“It’s not like Navari has ever liked me,” I pointed out. It was true. “My blood is too muddy for her tastes.”
“That’s crap. Look at Ensign-Haas. She likes him.” There was a tearing sound as Sophie pulled out a fresh bandage, then more pressure when she wrapped my wound. “Okay, you can sit up. Let me see that arm.”
I obeyed, moving into an upright position.
“I think ‘like’ is a little strong. Look, all I’m saying is that Haas kisses her ass and strives to be the perfect Sarkonian,” I pointed out, not flinching this time when she applied the numbing agent.
“And all I’m saying is you shouldn’t draw her attention to you unnecessarily.”
I nearly shrugged before remembering Sophie was still in mid-stitch.
“You’re right. It just didn’t seem like a fair fight, what with her only having that puny pistol.”
Sophie stared at me for a moment before letting out a laugh.
“I think you might be in the wrong line of work, Eva,” she said merrily, then focused on my arm again. After the last bandage was plastered over the wound, she stood and moved to clear away the litter.
“I didn’t exactly have much of a choice,” I murmured. Images of destruction and terror floated across my memory, but I pushed them back and got to my feet. “But you’re right. I’ll be more careful.”
Sophie studied my face then nodded, apparently deciding I’d had enough rebuke for the night. Her face softened and she handed me my gear, knowing I’d want to carry it myself.
“Z, can you run a diagnostic on my armor, please?” I asked.
“It is already done, Sergeant-Delgado,” she replied immediately. “The results have been sent to your personal tablet. Would you like me to summarize them for you?”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, Z.” I couldn’t help but smirk now that it was just me and Sophie. I never seemed to have any problems with the ship’s computer.
3
Later, back in my cramped quarters when I could finally relax, I checked my personal data pad. As Z9 had promised, a full diagnostic of my gear waited.
I grimaced as I studied the damage, mentally adding up the cost of repairs. The round that hit my back had caused considerable damage, not to mention holes from being shot, stabbed, and rolling down a rocky hill.
N02-99 tended to weaken and lose its effectiveness after taking too much damage. There was a large dent in the middle of the metal back plate, mere centimeters from my spine. Stress fractures had begun to show around the edge of the depression, and I knew it would need to be replaced.
The slash-proof catsuit had fared slightly better and could be patched. Its design protected against a variety of blades and also had a feature called ripstop. The name was apt. In the event of a puncture, the material wouldn’t sustain more damage unless it was done deliberately.
I had more than enough credits to cover the fees they’d slap me with at the armory, but it would still sting. I’d started building my little nest egg from the first time I received wages, such as they were, and had been adding to it ever since. My goal was to have enough to leave the Sarkonian Empire upon the conclusion of my obligatory service and do… something. I didn’t have all the finer points figured out yet, but I had plenty of time.
See, the Sarkonian Empire mandated that all citizens must serve four years in its military starting at age twenty. Unless you were like me, a non-native who had become Sarkonian by force, then the requirement was six years, to prove to the government that you could be loyal. I didn’t even get time served for my stint in military school.
The only way to get out of mandatory service was to possess a skill that the Empire needed more elsewhere, say as a scientist or specialized engineer. Even then you’d still end up working for the military and Sarkon was even less likely to let you go. I had heard stories of the government changing laws and regulations overnight when it suited them.
Not that anyone could stop them. They were called the Sarkonian Empire for a reason and the politicians of the oligarchy ruled with a hard hand. Any defiance was met with swift punishment to set examples for anyone who might consider rebelling.
Unfortunately for me, not only was I foreign-born, but the only skills I possessed were combat-related, so I had to bite down and do my six. No special treatment, no lucky draws. Just plow through the years and plan for the next stage of my life—whatever that happened to be. Maybe I’d go home and spend a year with my parents—adoptive parents—or maybe I’d find a job on some backwater colony world.
As if on cue, the pad’s communication icon blinked, and I opened it to find a holo-message from both my mother and father. I stared at the screen for a long moment debating whether or not to delete the transmission and pretend I’d never received it.
After being taken from Spiro, my childhood had not been a happy one. Children didn’t disrespect their parents, especially when those parents were respected members of the Sarkonian government.
I sighed. Knowing my father, he’d just send a message to Commander-Navari if I didn’t respond. I certainly didn’t want that kind of attention. Resigning myself, I hit play.
“Sergeant, we hope this finds you well,” said the holo image of my father. As usual, he addressed me by rank instead of my name, staring into the camera with a flat voice and joyless expression.
General-Julian Delgado was a tall man, almost 185 centimeters at his full height, with dark brown eyes set in a serious face unmarred by laugh lines. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen him smile genuinely. Gray was beginning to creep unevenly into his brown hair, giving it a speckled effect.
As usual, he took point while my mother, Diana Delgado, sat primly with her hands folded in her lap beside him, the pic
ture of the perfect military wife. She was a trim woman with black hair worn in one of the approved hairstyles, green eyes, and perfectly shaped lips. A slight smile touched her lips, but she didn’t speak.
I noticed her index finger tracing a circle on the back of her other hand and smiled. To anyone else it just looked like an absent-minded motion, but I knew better. It was her way of saying hi and that she loved me. Seeing the small token of affection made me glad I hadn’t trashed the message.
“There’s an award ceremony coming up,” continued my father, oblivious to the side conversation taking place beside him. “Your presence is required, given you’re not on assignment. As your term of service nears its end, your future must be considered. A number of potential suitors have approached me to express an interest in marriage.”
I almost choked at the words. The man couldn’t be serious. Arranged marriages weren’t legal and he had to know I would never agree. The news had kicked my heartrate up and I could feel the flush in my cheeks. Forcing myself to calm down, I returned my attention to the holo.
“The details have been sent. Do be prompt with your response, daughter,” my father was saying.
“Fat chance,” I muttered as he signed off without letting my mother say anything.
A quick check of my calendar told me that I wasn’t scheduled for any leave, so it was possible I’d be unable to attend.
Thank the gods for small favors, I thought to myself.
I had a brief internal debate on whether or not to send a holomessage back. We were in slipspace for the moment, and although this would usually prevent ships from sending communications, ours wasn’t a typical vessel.
Besides the fancy med bay and new equipment, the most important feature of our new ship was the updated cloak. It not only allowed us to travel unseen through slipspace, but it also gave us the ability to communicate while inside.
In the end, I decided against recording a holo and drafted a text only message to send once we exited the next S.G. Point instead. They didn’t have to know their daughter had the means to do otherwise, and I planned to keep it that way.
I wouldn’t have minded speaking to my mother, but my father monitored all of our communications and we could never have a normal discussion. I felt a stab of guilt at the thought of her being stuck in that big house with him but pushed it away. She loved the general despite his flaws and for all his overbearing ways he’d never hurt her. Even when he’d caught her sneaking me food during one of my punishments as a child, he only yelled at her.
I rolled over in my bunk and sighed, annoyed at the direction my thoughts were going. Diana had done what she could to protect and care for me when I went to live with them, but I’d only wanted the family that had been taken from me.
As it often did after seeing them and I was alone, my mind wandered to the past. It called up broken memories of two people whose faces I couldn’t quite remember. I closed my eyes, willing the images to clear, but they didn’t.
I had no pictures, no tokens, nothing from my life before the Sarkonian Empire invaded my home and took me away. All that remained was a vague impression of a woman screaming as I was ripped from her arms and the outraged roar of the man next to her before a Sarkonian soldier knocked him to the ground. Similar incidents were happening all around us as children were separated and herded into a large group.
The next part came more easily. I’d yelled and kicked with every ounce of strength in my six-year-old body. Of course, that had gotten me nowhere, so when the soldier put a hand over my mouth to quiet me, I bit down as hard as I could.
He dropped me, then delivered a punishing kick that sent my small form sprawling. Instead of staying down, I screamed and tried to attack him again.
His superior stopped him from shooting me, but barely. Apparently impressed with my fearlessness, the man instructed that I be taken to his ship and held away from the other children.
I never saw my parents again and I didn’t even know if they were still alive. After getting shipped back to Sarkon, the man, a commander, had ordered me cleaned up and prepared for a couple he knew needed a child.
Not wanted but needed, because they couldn’t conceive and hadn’t met the procreation quota. Sarkon wanted to grow its ranks, and by law, every married couple must contribute a minimum of one child.
My father, a major at the time, had been rising through the ranks. Only one thing was holding him back: his lack of offspring. He and my mother had talked to the commander while I listened. At first, he looked disinterested, barely even looking my way, until he saw the video of my attack.
“Sergeant-Delgado, your vitals appear to be outside normal levels,” declared Z9, breaking into my reverie. “Would you like me to play more music?”
I laughed a little at that. Z9 had a way of showing up when I needed her. I was glad the computer had interrupted my downward spiral. Dwelling on the past wouldn’t do me any good. I had to focus on the future.
“No thanks, Z. Just thinking about that fight with the guard. I wasn’t cautious enough.”
“Ah,” said the AI, sounding less than convinced. “In that case, shall I begin a playback of the sequence so that you might study it?”
“That’s okay,” I said, declining the offer. “I’m going to get some sleep.”
Z9 was different from any of the outdated A.I.s I’d dealt with in the past. I would almost swear she knew more than she let on, but I knew that to be impossible. Artificial intelligence programs had been designed to help us with complex tasks. The technology had never progressed to the point of sentience and all human like qualities were the result of coding. Still, sometimes I wondered.
“Of course, Sergeant. I’ll leave you to it.”
The room fell quiet again and I switched off the lights. The green walls of slipspace swirled by my window, beautiful as ever. Forcing my mind to go blank, I watched the lights dance through the small window until sleep finally washed over me.
We made it back to the SSF Ambiana in three standard days. The warship served as a home base of sorts and our unit was stationed there when not on a mission.
The vessel was huge, at least by Sarkonian standards, and carried a small fleet of fighter ships in its hull. Nearly a thousand soldiers called her home at any given time, though that number fluctuated depending on deployments and how much conflict Sarkon happened to be engaging in.
The Dreadnight docked in one of the service bays to be refueled and tuned up in preparation for our next assignment. She was a beauty compared to most of the other vessels in the area and as we departed the sleek Union ship, I saw plenty of jealous looks tossed our way.
I couldn’t help smirking a little as our team reported to a debriefing session to give a detailed report of the mission and answer any questions that came up. I guess there were some perks to being an elite operative.
Usually, Captain-Guerrero ran the debriefs, but today it was Vice-Admiral-Adrian Kaska. If it flustered Navari to be reporting directly to one of the Ambiana’s most important officers, she hid it well, taking a seat when he waved a hand at us to be at ease.
I had to admit that I was curious myself at why the Vice-Admiral would bother with such a lowly task. He nodded at Navari, who returned the gesture before beginning her report.
The rest of the unit stood behind her, hands resting behind our backs in a half-attention pose and staring straight ahead. Navari didn’t speak, showing deference to Kaska and waiting for him to start.
Kaska barely spared us a glance before sitting down and holding out a hand. A woman rushed forward—an assistant, judging from her apparel—and handed him a pad. He took it without thanking her and studied the data, reading over what I assumed were the mission details. Finally, he slid it out of the way and steepled his fingers.
“Commander-Navari, you have the data cube?” he asked, looking pointedly at her.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, pulling it from her pocket.
I didn’t react, but the move surprise
d me. Protocol dictated that any items retrieved on missions must be logged in and verified upon returning. Navari had never bypassed the procedure that I knew of and that she did so now told me the data cube was important.
“Good,” Kaska, replied, taking it from her and turning it over in his hands thoughtfully. “Did you run into any issues?”
I wondered if Navari might bring up my unorthodox handling of the guard. It would be a good time to make me look bad in front of a superior and I fully expected her to take the opportunity.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” she said smoothly. “Only a few minor injuries that have already been treated and healed.”
I’d expected the commander’s voice to be hesitant or stiff, but she talked in an almost conversational tone and I found myself wondering if she and Kaska knew each other.
“Excellent. Congratulations to you and your team on another successful trip,” he said when she finished, smiling just a little too wide. “You’ve all earned three days’ liberty. You’re free to leave if you wish. Dismissed.”
We saluted and left in a single file line with Navari bringing up the rear. Just before she would have followed us out, Kaska spoke again.
“Stay a minute, would you, Commander?”
“Of course, Vice-Admiral-Kaska,” Navari replied, turning back into the room and letting the door slide closed behind us.
No one commented, but something didn’t feel right, and I knew we all had to be wondering what was going on in there. Even Haas wore a perplexed look on his face before splitting off to take his leave.
“I’m going to get some food,” I announced, looking at Mateo and Sophie. “You guys wanna grab something before you go?”
They agreed and we made our way through the cavernous ship to the mess hall. The Ambiana might be huge, but it was a rust bucket compared to the Dreadnight. When military personnel weren’t deployed, most were relegated to fixing things.
The vessel was old and in a constant state of repair, but she was home. I knew her well and had gotten an education in a variety of trades when I was a lower rank.
