The Lost Voyager: A Carson March Space Opera

by A. C. Hadfield

  Lassea and Babcock turned in their seats when Mach entered. Tulula remained focused on her controls. He sat in the captain’s chair and gazed at the viewscreens. “What’s the situation?”

  “Five klicks and closing in every second,” Lassea said. “Deflector shields raised and weapons ready to fire when they come around the mountains.”

  “Break the atmosphere and L-jump,” Mach said. “We’re not hanging around to find out what’s approaching.”

  Babcock cleared his throat. Mach looked at him and slowly shook his head. The scientist turned back toward the ion cannon controls and his shoulders slumped.

  The Intrepid’s engines built to a thunderous roar. The ship lifted from the ground and thrust into the dark sky. Mach kept his focus on the tracking and viewscreens. Dim lights appeared over the dark shadow of the mountain range.

  Lines of static interference fizzed across the tracker.

  “I can’t get a fix in the dark,” Tulula said. “Their distortion tech’s too good.”

  “Fire at the damned lights,” Mach ordered.

  All four lasers speared toward the mountain. A single ball of fire flashed in the sky. The Intrepid continued to ascend and quickly built speed.

  Nineteen bolts of white energy raced through the darkness toward the ship. Mach gripped the arms of his chair and braced. He knew the shield could take multiple hits and maintain its structure, but this amount was pushing it.

  Ten of the bolts smashed against the ship’s defenses in quick succession, forcing energy against the side of the Intrepid. Mach was rocked around as each bolt battered the shield.

  “Approaching the atmosphere,” Lassea said. “We need to drop the shields to get through and L-Jump.”

  “Wait for it,” Mach said. “A moment too early and we’re toast.”

  Tulula continued to return fire and scored another hit.

  The chasing phane ships closed to within two klicks and fired a second volley. Energy sources raced across the tracking screen and blasted against the shield, throwing Mach out of his chair. He checked the countdown time showed less than five minutes.

  “Now!” Mach said.

  The blue outline disappeared from around the ship on the holocontrols. Lassea increased the power of the fusion motors and the ship vibrated through Noven Alpha’s atmosphere.

  “They’ve fired again,” Adira shouted. “Evasive.”

  Lassea immediately thrust left to change the angle of their ascent.

  Mach held his breath. The first few bolts zipped underneath. A few shot either side of the ship. Three smashed into its starboard side.

  Lights flashed on the console. An alarm blared.

  “We’ve still got structural integrity,” Babcock said. He mopped his brow and peered down at the diagnostic reports streaming across his monitor.

  “Engaging L-drive,” Lassea said.

  The phane ships closed to within a click, their dark swallow-like shapes now visible as they pursued in an arrow formation.

  Multiple energy readings flashed on the tracking screen. Eighteen bolts headed directly for the Intrepid’s hull.

  A split second later the stars in space turned to long white streaks as the ship accelerated to a smooth light cruising speed.

  Mach puffed his cheeks, slumped back in his chair, and turned to Adira. “Remind me never to go back there again.”

  “I don’t think anyone will,” Adira replied, but kept her eyes fixed on the space scanner. “Take a look.”

  A huge energy field covered an area five times bigger than the planet. Sanchez had managed to set off the bomb.

  Chapter 26

  Mach lay on a single bunk in the temporary accommodation block of Livia Beta’s capital city. Bright sunshine radiated through cracks in the blinds, creating a uniform pattern on the plain white wall above him. It had been five days since they escaped from Noven Alpha. He had set a course to the closest system in the Salus Sphere and docked at the shipyards of Livia Beta for repairs. They still had another day of waiting around while Tulula worked with the local engineers to patch and tweak the Intrepid. Sereva had already left in a company ship, having been given a position on the OreCorp board after all.

  Mach smiled, thinking the stuffy board members would have their work cut out for them with Sereva. He had briefly considered offering her a position on the Intrepid, but there was that small slither of friction between her and Adira that he knew would only turn into a bigger problem down the line—assuming Adira would stay on.

  No official word had come out yet from the CWDF regarding the detonation, but that was about to change. Rumors already swirled around the Salusnet about what happened outside the frontier in the Noven System.

  President Morgan’s stern face glared through Mach’s smart-screen. “Are you listening to a word I’ve said?”

  “Your dirty little secret’s safe with me—on two conditions.”

  Morgan frowned and leaned forward. “OreCorp confirmed they paid you. What else do you want from me?”

  “I want the slate wiped clean for all of the crew: my fines across the system, Adira’s sentence, everything. If you don’t clear her name, I can’t guarantee what she’ll do.”

  Morgan took a quick breath, considered the proposal and waved a hand as though it were nothing. “That can be arranged,” he said, looking unreadable in his stiff dark blue uniform dripping with medals—many of which he had earned alongside Mach in the war. “And your second condition?”

  “I’d like somebody to dig into Sanchez’s history. Find out if he has any extended family still alive that he never told me about. We owe it to him to at least let them know what happened and pay them his cut for the mission.”

  “That might be difficult. The only records we have on gunrunners are the criminal kind.”

  Mach rolled his eyes. “You’re forgetting I’ve got Babcock here. He thinks Beringer’s the best man for the job. Give him a break from his museum research and see what he can dig up.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t give you a firm promise.” Morgan glanced at his wrist. “The press conference starts in five minutes. After that I’ll see to your requirements.”

  “Thanks, Qwerty.”

  Morgan grimaced. “Don’t push it. You know as well as I that you’ll be needing my help in the not-too-distant future.”

  The feed cut. Mach smiled to himself. Morgan’s nickname came from their time serving together in the CWDF during the Century War. Back then, as a captain of a destroyer, Morgan ran a tight ship and gave supposedly inspirational speeches harking back to historical victories back on Earth. A lot of the crew thought him old fashioned and one joker named him after the first five letters of an antique keyboard. It stuck, much to Morgan’s annoyance.

  Mach tapped a message for the crew to meet him in the mess in five minutes. He rolled off the bed, zipped up his weighted graphite atmosphere suit, and headed outside.

  Four huge, open hangars ran along the side of the klick-wide landing zone. Ships of different sizes dotted the concrete. The Intrepid was being repaired in the first hangar. The rest had destroyers under construction. Small figures of livians stood on the scaffolding around them, welding the frames. The Commonwealth and the Axis Combine were good at using peacetime to become more powerful and dangerous, which always made future skirmishes and threats that little bit more fun.

  His smart-screen chirped: Adira sent a message back saying that she and Lassea were already in the mess. It didn’t surprise Mach for a moment. Those two had taken a shine to the local sludge that masqueraded as coffee.

  “Carson, wait up,” Babcock said from behind as he shuffled around the corner and came up to Mach with a half-jog, struggling against the weight of his suit and old age. Mach sighed. It didn’t seem right to see him without a version of Squid dutifully following over his shoulder.

  “Done anything interesting this morning?” Mach asked.

  Babcock took a moment to catch his breath in the thin atmosphere
. He dabbed a handkerchief across his brow. “The local remembrance park has agreed to our request. They’re digging two graves. We can go over whenever you’re ready.”

  The tradition for freelancers dictated that anyone lost on a mission was given an empty coffin in a grave. A place of physical remembrance that could be visited by anyone wanting to pay their respects. Not all planets agreed with the practice, however, not always being friendly to freelancers and mercenaries.

  Mach had tasked Babcock with the assignment to take his mind off things. The old scientist had been down since losing Squid Two and not having the equipment available to create a new version.

  “Good news for a change. Morgan’s broadcasting to the Sphere in two minutes. I thought you might want to see it.”

  “What nonsensical excuse will he use?” Babcock said.

  “No idea, but I guarantee it won’t be the truth.”

  Babcock cracked a smile. “The only way to know the truth is when the CWDF gives an official denial.”

  Mach shook his head and laughed. “Is that you getting cynical in your old age?”

  “The power of accurate observation is often called cynicism by those who don’t possess it.”

  “Remind me to write that one down,” Mach said.

  “It may also interest you to know that I’ve finished analyzing the phane data. They had maps of the western side of the Salus Sphere. Looks like we did everyone a bigger favor than any of us realized.”

  “Nobody will ever see it like that, though, we’re just freelancer scum, after all. Come on, let’s see what the president has to say.”

  They entered through the double glass swing doors of the mess. Bright white and light gray walls and floors created a clean, comfortable atmosphere that seemed at odds to the general grimy nature of the capital with all its shipyards and industry.

  Mach scanned the forty circular tables in front of the serving area. A group of five fidians sat around one in light blue CWDF uniforms, no doubt checking on the progress of their destroyers. They shot glances over at two black-skinned vestans on the other side of the room. Both busily tapped away on holopads, ignoring the attention, in their usual way of indifference.

  Lassea raised an arm from a table near the back of the room. Mach and Babcock snaked around the tables and took a seat. Adira pushed a mug of steaming vile coffee in front of the both of them.

  “What did you want?” Adira asked. “Lass and I were nearly fully caffeinated.”

  “Nice to see you too,” Mach said. He pointed up at the high-definition screen on the wall. “Morgan’s giving a statement.”

  “This’ll be good,” Lassea said.

  Adira rolled her eyes and finished the dregs in her metallic cup, sneering at the bitter aftertaste.

  “The old duffer always was a good bullshitter,” Lassea added, bringing a coughing, spluttering laugh from Adira.

  Mach couldn’t help but smile either, as Lassea’s increasingly rebellious streak continued to manifest. It didn’t take long for her to transform from a perfect, protocol-following, CWDF junior pilot to a true Machian freelancer of questionable motivations. Mach gave her a quick smile and turned round to face the screen.

  The display showed an empty wooden lectern with the CDWF coat of arms—an outdated ship over the top of a planet, surrounded by a ring of eight stars—stamped on the front of it. The ticker below read: Official statement regarding the Noven system incident.

  Morgan appeared from the left, placed both hands on the lectern and stared into the camera. “Good evening, citizens. I’m talking to you this morning to provide an update on the anomaly outside our frontier.”

  “Anomaly?” Adira snorted. “Sanchez died for that fucking weapon, and Morgan just refers to it as an ‘anomaly.’” She shook her head and turned away.

  Mach knew Sanchez’s death cut everyone deep, but this was how things worked. The people at the coalface were never mentioned. It would probably compromise future missions anyway. Still, it didn’t dull the empty feeling in his guts left by Sanchez’s passing.

  Morgan continued, “OreCorp made us aware of the instability of Noven Alpha’s core after suspending mining operations ten years ago. The CWDF has monitored the area ever since. We recently picked up powerful energy readings from the system. Five days ago, the planet’s instability caused a volatile core reaction, leading to the burst of trapped energies, breaking the planet apart. The debris field is currently showering Noven Beta. Luckily, no citizens have been reported in the area, and the Salus Sphere remains unaffected as our astrophysicists monitor the situation and the matter fallout. I’m happy to answer questions.”

  A fidian, dressed in a lime trouser suit, stood up. “President, thank you for the update. Will the Noven system provide any future threat?”

  “Gotta love those government plants,” Adira said. “I couldn’t think of a more shit-brained question.”

  Morgan slowly nodded and referred to his clearly fake notes. “We’ll continue to assess the situation, but rest assured, any threat to the integrity of our borders will be dealt with.”

  The planted press continued to ask carefully planned questions for a further ten minutes, allowing Morgan to absolve the CWDF and OreCorp of any responsibility or liability.

  Finally the address came to an end. “Thank you for your time and I wish you all a good day or night, wherever you are in the Sphere.” Morgan shuffled his papers as the screen faded to black.

  Mach leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head now that it was all officially over. The threat was dealt with, he’d been paid, and they came out of it mostly unscathed—except poor old Sanchez. He left a hole within Mach that was too big to fill with stims or alcohol, so he contented himself with the knowledge that Sanchez had chosen how to go, and went in the most honorable way possible. His sacrifice had ensured the survival of the Intrepid crew, and most likely every living being in the Sphere.

  Adira turned and narrowed her eyes. “You seem content?”

  “The price for suffering his waffle is that you’re off the hook—well, we all are. He’s cancelling your charges and all our associated fines.”

  “Seriously?” Adira said. A smile stretched across her beautiful green-toned face. “So I can go about as I please?”

  “Signed, sealed, and delivered,” Mach said. “You can run back to your lover now.”

  Adira smirked as she stared into Mach’s eyes. “I never had a lover,” she said. “It kept you focused on the mission and away from me.”

  All eyes around the table seemed to focus on Mach, apart from Lassea, who bowed her head. The revelation came as a nice surprise, but he didn’t want to show it. “Are you remaining part of the crew, then?” he said.

  “I… don’t know yet. I need to think about things. I’ve not been free for… well, forever, it seems.”

  Babcock cleared his throat. “I hesitate to cut into the banter, but we have two members of the crew to mourn. Would you all care to join me at the remembrance park?”

  “You’re right, Babs,” Mach said. “The living owe it to those who died to maintain their memory and spirit.”

  “I’ll message Tulula,” Lassea said. “She’ll want to be there.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Adira replied. “She’s been odd with us from the moment we got here.”

  “I guess we’ll see,” Babcock said.

  The group stood and headed for the exit.

  Mach and the crew, minus Tulula, stood at the head of two freshly dug graves on the slopes of Livia Beta, overlooking the shipyards and choppy deep blue bay.

  He looked around the stone monuments placed around the remembrance park. Elaborate statues of alien species long extinct, formal CWDF slabs, and simple granite crosses denoting the position of freelancers were spread around the yellow-grassed area surrounded by a smooth marble wall. Nobody knew why the freelancers still stuck with the conventions of Earth, but it had become a tradition throughout the Sphere.

&nb
sp; Babcock knelt next to the meter-long grave on the right. He produced a white flag from his suit, decorated with binary code, and placed it over Squid Two’s coffin. He took a step back and bowed his head.

  Lassea threw a bright yellow flower on the top of Sanchez’s coffin. Adira, following fidian custom, extended her arms down and looked toward the sky, praying to her gods for a safe passage into eternity.

  Mach couldn’t help but look at the livian sitting in his brilliant white hover-digger, waiting to pile on the dirt the moment they left. To them this was just a business. He couldn’t blame them for it, but it took away the solemn nature of the proceedings.

  A boom echoed in the sky. The group collectively looked up at the recognizable sound of a ship speeding through the atmosphere at a rapid descent. Two livian fighters had already scrambled and flanked either side of a tiny speck in the sky.

  “What the hell is this?” Mach grumbled under his breath, pissed off at being interrupted during a moment of mourning for his friend.

  The ship appeared to be on autopilot. It didn’t carry out any sweeps or tilts and smoothly descended toward the landing strip in front of the hangars.

  Mach unslung his Stinger and looked through the sights for a better view. As the ship came closer, the shape became clear, but he couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Who is it?” Lassea asked. “Lactern, horan?”

  “Holy fuck… No, it’s none of them. I can’t believe it.” Mach’s jaw dropped at the sight.

  “What is it, then?” Adira said.

  “The Intrepid’s fighter drone!” Mach couldn’t believe his own words despite watching the craft slice through the atmosphere like a spirit.

  “Our fighter drone?” Adira said. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “If it L-jumped moments after us,” Babcock said, “the arrival matches with calculations based on its engines.”

  Mach zoomed the sights and watched the drone gently land on the strip. He couldn’t see into the cockpit, but the identification marks on the side were enough.