by Casey Herzog
Jude could feel his body tensing. He knew why his crew was being invited to hear more tales of the Secessionists’ dead hero and paragon: Peter Gabell. “I want you to tell all crewmen not turn down the invitation. I want everyone to be in attendance when that man starts telling his tales. Do you understand me?”
Ana opened her mouth like she wanted to object, but then closed it again. Her eyes narrowed and lips pursed as though she were thoroughly considering what it was her commander was asking. “Very well, Commander, I will order all crewmen I can communicate with to be there.”
Jude gave a curt nod, and then turned to the three interrogators. “Are you happy to leave proceedings there, or am I free to have a full debriefing with my second in command?” His crewmate's rebellious attitude must have been rubbing off on him for him to be talking to their captors like that.
Ana smirked. It was one of the few times she had seemed impressed with Jude ever. She was usually his fiercest critic. He did not look to Tharsis or the others for their reaction, worried their polite courtesy might suddenly disappear.
“No. You may go now Miss Fuertes, thank you.”
Ana left as she entered, tall and proud. Meanwhile, Jude shrank in his chair in fear of reprisal from his captors.
None came.
CHAPTER 2
From the viewport windows, Jude could see the outline of the Unity. The first spacecraft ever designed for war, her crew were entrusted with the purpose of reunifying the outer planets of the Solar System after they called for secession from Earth. If her crew had remained loyal to the cause, the Retribution would never have needed to be built. If the Unity had done their duty to Earth as they ought, Jude would never have been called to fight. That's what he hated most about the Unity and her crew: if they had just stayed true to their mission, he might never have been called on to serve as a fighter.
With the last of the crew interviews completed, Jude was given permission to return to quarters and freshen up before mealtime was called. Once again, he found himself escorted by the tall, bald Martian, who seemed to stick to him like glue. She was like some silent shadow now, walking when he walked, pausing when he paused. Even as he looked out at the Unity flying in parallel with them, he could see the shadowy reflection of her in the glass.
“You do have other people who could keep me under guard, don't you?” He asked the question just to fill the silence. If she insisted on tailing him, he supposed he may as well make conversation.
“I do, but I prefer to work by example. After everything you heard about me yesterday, I am sure you can appreciate why that is.”
Jude thought back to the previous evening, the strange tale laid down as an obituary for her fallen friend Peter Gabell. He couldn't deny it; it had been a fascinating and gripping story. If true, it gave a fascinating insight into the minds of their enemy. Peter Gabell had been a legend, a hero to the people of Earth before he turned traitor. The old films, documentaries, and interviews with him had been either destroyed or buried by Earth's leaders so that little was really known about him. He had been a child slave hidden away in an illegal mining operation, beaten and scarred. Rescued by the benevolent work of the One Earth League, he had been given a second chance at life. When he was launched into space on a six-year mission to put down the Secessionist forces that infected the outer planets, people assumed Peter Gabell would have been proud to fight and lay down his life in payment of the debt he owed Earth. Why he decided instead to join the Secessionists had been a matter of much debate.
The tale of Peter's life, told by those who knew him best, had gone some way to explaining the character of the man, but it still left many questions open. The same was true about Minerva.
The Martian seemed to sense Jude was lost in his own thoughts and waited in a respectful silence for a time. Only when Jude turned from the window and began to walk did she deign to speak again. “I'm curious to know why you gave the order for your shipmates to come along to tonight's eulogy for the fallen. I thought you saw the whole thing as nothing more than a trick or propaganda piece to brainwash you all.”
Jude shrugged his shoulders. He didn't bother looking at the Martian. She was far too tall, and any time he wanted to look at her he had to strain his neck. “I still do think your stories are propaganda, but I'm not trying to suggest you're using your friend's death as a means of garnering sympathy to your cause.”
“Yes, you are,” Minerva said flatly. There was a slight edge to her voice, and Jude feared he was on unstable ground. Silence overtook them again as they walked to the ladder that led down into the main artery of the ship. “But you haven't answered my question: why order your people to attend the second night of remembrance? We have already said we would not force any of you to sit in. Even if none of you come to hear our tale, we will sit and tell it in honor of our fallen.”
Jude let out a frustrated breath. There was no harm in being frank with the commander. “I want to ensure that you aren't going to single us out.”
“Single you out?” Tharsis repeated his words with a laugh.
Jude continued seriously. “All the questions you asked the crew earlier. As near as I can tell, you are trying to decide who is the most open to your message and cause. I'm guessing those who answered your questions honestly and openly are likely higher up in your estimation right now. At a guess: letting us choose for ourselves whether or not to attend your service of remembrance is just another test for us. You can't afford to keep any of us who won't ultimately cooperate with you and your cause. I don't want to give my people the freedom of choice in this only to find that those who refused to attend your evening are dead by morning shift.”
Minerva gave a long, over-exaggerated nod, a smirk plastered on her face. “I see. I think I am beginning to understand why you were put in charge of your cohort, Jude. I struggled to see it at first. You don't have an appetite for battle or any great charisma, but you have that kind of paranoia that the military likes to keep alive: constantly questioning and analyzing what you see and worrying that you're not quite getting the whole picture.”
Jude's lips bunched tight. “I'm not really in the mood to take criticism on my failings as a commander.”
Tharsis took a step closer and clapped him on the back. It was an overly friendly gesture and it confused him greatly. “It was not an insult Jude.” She took a deep breath and her focus seemed to drift away from the present moment. “In fact, it was that same kind of ever questioning mind that really set Peter apart from the others in our cohort. At times, it made him even more of an asset than our leader Alphred.”
“Well, I am sure I will get to hear all about it in tonight's tale,” he quipped.
“Quite possibly,” Minerva confessed. “But just an amusing thought for you to chew on, I think you are far more likely to end up coming around to our cause than anyone else in your crew.”
Jude bristled at the suggestion and gave no reply. Minerva led him on in silence, giving him time to reflect on her prediction before re-joining his crew.
Back in the mess hall, Jude found his crew eating their evening meal. The mess hall was large enough to accommodate three whole cohorts at a time, and there were plenty of seats empty. Though regulations had fallen by the wayside, the survivors continued to hold to the patterned traditions they had followed throughout their mission. The cohorts sat apart, with Pluto Cohort on the far right of the hall and Jude's own command on the left. As he passed over the threshold, Ana stood sharply from her seat and saluted. “Commander on deck!”
It was tradition to stand to attention when the admiral entered a room, and in his absence, Jude was now the one to receive the honour. A few others stood as quickly as Ana, saluting Jude in proud defiance of their captors. All the rest did stand, but they took their time about it, and their backs were slouched. Jude wished none of them would salute him at all.
“Return to your business.” He tried to imitate the admiral's confidence as he spoke, but it didn't come off rig
ht. He stood in place, for a moment, waiting for the crew to sit and look away from him before going to his appointed seat.
There were ten guards in the room. Numerically, Jude had almost a nine to one advantage if they decided to stage a coup. However, the guards were armed, and they were not. Besides, even if they did manage to take them, they would have wrested control of the mess hall only; it was far from the main control hub in the ship. Jude put thoughts of insurrection to the back of his mind. He looked to his second, guessing her mind was already doing more than enough plotting for the both of them.
“You gave a good show against them earlier.” Ana had never been good at giving compliments. It felt more like she was stating a fact than trying to boost his confidence and morale. Maybe that really was the case. “I told the crew you expect their full attendance at tonight’s... at whatever it is.”
Jude nodded and began to work on the meal that had been put out for him: rehydrated beef, a delicacy for special occasions. He took a grateful bite and allowed himself to enjoy the flavor before answering his second in command. “Do you think everyone will come?”
Ana showed little interest in her food. She prodded the steak from time to time with her fork but made no effort to eat it. “Are you asking if they are loyal to your command? I trust the crew to behave admirably. I'll keep an eye on the numbers tonight to make sure they are all there. If anyone decides to ignore your direct order, I will make sure they get a suitable punishment.”
Jude frowned. “I don't think we need to worry about that. I'm more concerned with what our benevolent captors will do to any of us who don't cooperate with them.”
Ana grunted. “Their good cop routine is starting to wear thin with me. It makes me cringe every time I see one of them smiling at me or asking if I'm okay. It's going to be a relief when they drop their act and show their true colors.”
Jude grunted. He wasn't sure he fully agreed with anything Ana had just said. “Eat up, I don't want you starving yourself to make a point.”
“Yes, Commander.”
If nothing else, Jude was impressed by Ana's acceptance of his command. He knew she wanted to be the one in charge, and the restraint and deference she had shown him were really something. Still, he knew it came more from her recognition of the chain of command her superiors had set than any confidence in his own ability.
Even before the meal was concluded, members of the Secessionist forces began to wander into the mess hall. It seemed Tharsis had not been exaggerating the importance of these events to her people. Jude watched the crew of the Unity as they took up positions, forming little pockets of camaraderie. Some spoke happily and easily, others were more dour and serious. In a few, he could see the look of real grief for lost friends and loved ones.
Goswami, the black-haired beauty went between the various pockets, most often associating with those who struggled to keep their emotions in check. The woman seemed to have a knack with people and those she spoke with all seemed to have their spirits lifted by her words. It was funny to think that, once upon a time, this peacekeeper and confidant to so many had been one of the many in her crew to judge Peter Gabell and put him down when they could. He knew Goswami was important to Gabell's story, and he felt certain he would learn more about the woman through the storyteller's words this evening.
It was at precisely at that moment that Jude reflected he was genuinely looking forward to hearing the next part in the tale of Peter Gabell and the wider tale of the Unity. He tried to tell himself that it was perfectly natural. He had just spent a day of mind-numbing boredom, cut off from his crew. The promise of a good story, even a fictional one, was bound to seem like some kind of reward to him. He hurried to finish his plate, not wishing to hold up the proceedings. As soon as he was done, he helped those who were clearing up. Several Secessionists had offered to help with the cleaning up, but Ana made sure that their aid was firmly rebuffed. The last thing they needed was to give the enemy more opportunity to demonstrate their kindness.
The lights were dimmed before the storyteller entered the room. It added a sense of atmosphere and anticipation to things, and a suitable hush fell over the mess hall as the gathered mass waited for things to begin. Ana had been as good as her word and kept an eagle eye on their own. Anyone who tried to duck out of the night's service was intercepted by her and most quickly reconsidered their position. Nonetheless, at least four chose to ignore their commanders and opted to return to their quarters. The Secessionists didn't try to stop them, but Jude noticed Minerva Tharsis watching them all carefully. As on the first night, she wore her heavy boarding armor, making her look like some hulking knight from medieval times. He guessed she wore her armor as a badge of honor. A sword was strapped to her side, and her hand rested on the handle as she lurked in the far corner of the room.
Goswami, moved to the Martian's side, the pair a strange contrast stood next one another. The raven-haired woman was like a delicate flower, and Minerva was as rugged and formless as a boulder. Goswami whispered a few words to the Martian. Jude couldn't tell what she said, but, once again, Tharsis seemed to ignore the woman. He couldn't help but wonder if there was some deeper history there. Perhaps it would come out in the evening's tale.
Following the same pattern as the previous evening, a circular space had been arranged in the center of the mess hall, and a single light had been left at full glow, creating the illusion of a stage space. When you focused on it, all the rest of the room seemed to melt away and you were led to believe that single circle of light was all that existed in the entire universe.
The storyteller stepped into that tiny micro-universe of light. He held himself with calm and confident composure, not seeming at all phased by the host of eyes watching him. He made for the center of the circle at his own pace and sat down on the lone chair left there.
The room held its breath. The storyteller did not launch straight into speech. Instead, he let the audience's anticipation build. A true showman.
“On this second day of mourning for those lost in yesterday's battle, it is my honor to continue to tell the tale of just one amongst our order who fell. Peter Gabell's story is the story of all of us who crewed the Unity. His story is the story of every Secessionist who has fought to retain our independence from Earth. I encourage all who hear his tale to reflect not just on Peter, but on all those who died with him for our cause. To our brothers and sisters of the Retribution, those who were our enemies, we invite you to hear our tale and reflect on your own journey. The hardships you have faced, the friends and colleagues you have lost. Your trials and griefs are mirrored with ours, and we stand with you in fellowship and understanding if you will let us.
Tonight, we remember our history and look forward to our future.
CHAPTER 3
Peter enjoyed Birthdays. 'The Birthday Club' as it had been coined by the more flamboyant members of the cohort, had proven to be a great success and gave the crew and himself something to look forward as their ship quietly plowed through the void between Mars and Jupiter. 365 million miles lay between the Jovian system and the Red Planet. Even the most sophisticated ship’s engines couldn't cross that void in less than a year. The Unity, of course, was a cut above any other space faring vessel ever made and was on course to reach the gas giant in only nine months. To the record keepers, this must have felt like extremely good time, but to those who had to live on the Unity, it was nine months of abject boredom.
Admiral Gayle and the Chiefs of Staff filled the stretch of space between Mars and Jupiter with drills, training, combat simulations and even more training. In order to prepare the cohorts for the trials Jupiter would likely present, the Chiefs gave no free pass. The cohorts were encouraged to compete for the top ranks in all performance areas, and the chiefs made each crew member work hard for even the slightest note of praise. Their philosophy seemed to be one of: ‘You've got to be cruel to be kind,’ but that attitude only got them so far.
Peter noticed quickly how the tight
ened regime of training and drills wore on his crewmates. Even if his commander, Alphred, didn't notice, even if Minerva Tharsis didn't care, Peter felt his cohorts needed to let off stea,m and so the Birthday Club was born.
Officially, none of the crew of the Unity had a recognized birthday. As orphans brought up in the Earth League's adoption service, no one in any of the cohorts knew their actual birthday, with the notable exception of Minerva. In space, there was little scope for celebration days. Resources were slim and business of survival in an uncaring void afforded little room for relaxation. Recognized Earth holidays like Christmas, Diwali, and Easter were a kind of taboo. You could pay lip service to them, but a line was drawn on an actual celebration. Birthdays would be the same if any of the orphans who populated the void knew when they were.
For Peter and the others who had formed the Birthday Club, there was something deliciously fun and subversive about inventing their own private holiday that was a secret from the Chiefs and Commanders of the Unity. The members of the club were picked carefully: only those who could be trusted to keep the secret and not blow the whistle. If you were accepted into the club, you drew lots to discover which day would be your unofficial birthday. When a birthday rolled around, all members of the club were expected to do what they could to make the day special for the lucky one whose 'birthday' it was. The club had been a big success, so much so that its membership had extended beyond Pluto Cohort and included members of both Neptune and Uranus.
