With Eyes Turned Skyward

by Gregory Stravinski

I follow the white light of the map on the table. Tracing along the path, I find the riled face of Captain Dixon.

  “Were you not all at Shipwreck?” she shouts at the officers behind her. “What makes you believe that this theory isn’t true?”

  No one says a word to challenge her. If we play this right, we’ve just gained a powerful ally.

  In the ensuing silence, Captain Dixon addresses Sabine more quietly this time. “I assume the Chosen people your father is referring to are the Cascade?”

  “That’s correct,” Sabine nods.

  Lieutenant Baltier speaks up. “So what are we gonna do about it?”

  Hearing the bastard Australian’s voice spurs me into action. I clear my throat. “We’re going to hunt down the Ark and destroy it from the inside.”

  Laughter flows through the crowd. They think I’m joking.

  Baltier waits for them to die down. “Yeah, alright. And how do you propose we do that?” he presses.

  I’ve been waiting for a chance to pay Baltier back for his welcome the night Shipwreck was attacked. This might be just the time.

  “While escaping Shipwreck, Nurse Cassandra Dawson and I witnessed the Ark’s capture of the British carrier Churchill. The Ark enveloped it completely, within a concealed hangar bay. I hold my gaze before continuing. “If I were a betting man, I’d say the Cascade dismantled the carrier and repurposed the surviving crew.”

  A middle-aged veteran stops me. Her military braid falls over her shoulder as she leans across the table from the other side. “And what part of this story makes us believe we can challenge the Ark’s capabilities?”

  “What I propose is a trick that’s been used for thousands of years with great success,” I offer.

  I motion to Diz. She bends down and presses a few buttons on the side panel of the table. Colored holograms glimmer to life above us. Three polygon ships appear, one after another, the first markedly larger than the next two.

  “Who all has heard of the ‘Trojan Horse’?” I ask.

  A few hands snake into the air.

  “Excellent . . . well, we’re going to compound that tactic with a ‘bait and switch’ maneuver,” I say.

  I wait for interjections. None come. I gesture once more to Diz and she slowly turns another dial. The ships jump to life.

  “We’ve already received support from the British vessel, the Agincourt. Although it’s a smaller frigate, the souls onboard are determined to help rescue, or at the very least avenge, their lost brothers and sisters of the Churchill,” I explain.

  The glow of the holograms cast an ethereal light on the crew around me.

  “I’ve spoken with Crew Chief Diz McAlister, and she’s confident that we’ll be able to create dummy fires aboard the Agincourt.” As I say this, crude flames begin protruding from the Agincourt’s boxy likeness depicted above us. “Crew Chief McAlister assures me that although there is a risk that we could lose control of the flames, we should be able to keep them contained, while still believable enough to catch the Ark’s attention.”

  Making a circling motion with my finger, I indicate for Diz to increase the speed of the display. “Our gamble is that the Ark will move to capture the Agincourt in order to take one of our main ships out of play.”

  Diz jumps in. “What the Cascade won’t be expecting is that we’ll be keeping a close eye on the Ark’s hangar doors.”

  The pixilated vessel above opens its front and begins pursuing the model Agincourt.

  My eyes track the path of the Ark as it bears down on its prey. “When the bait’s taken, that’s our cue to rapidly descend and enter the hangar bay instead.”

  There’s a silence as a dark Artemis swoops down from above, entering the Ark. Even the computer animation of the maneuver is awkward; I can’t imagine that demonstration instilled much confidence that we would be successful in real life.

  A Major slams his hand down on the table. “With those tactics, it’s going to be a hell of a short battle!”

  The Admiral’s baritone voice rises up from among his group of aides. “With these tactics we have a fighting chance, Major. May I remind you that this is my ship and my mission in the first place?”

  His grey eyes sweep the crowd as he booms. “All of you were there for the battle at Shipwreck. We will not last long against the Ark’s guns. Neither will our cohort. We must infiltrate the Ark and destroy it from the inside. That is our only recourse against its plate armor.”

  The Admiral gestures to Diz as she manipulates the display. The shapes pause before zooming into The Ark’s hangar.

  The Admiral points to the now docked Artemis. “The grand battle will take place in the Ark’s hangar bay.”

  Triangles of different colors appear on either side of the screen, engaging one another.

  The Admiral presses both his hands on the table, leaning over it to continue his narration. “The battle is mainly a distraction however. With this ruse, we can split their crew in two. One half will be dedicated to protecting the ship from external threats, and the other half will be dedicated to dealing with us. We want their manpower to be as divided as possible while our special teams do their work.”

  Diz turns the overhead display so the hangar bay’s doors are the most prominent. “My engineers and I will use the initial shock to our advantage and make a beeline for the bay itself. I have a hunch that the second the Artemis docks inside, the Cascade will slam the doors on us.”

  I shiver at the thought.

  Diz appears unfazed. “Assuming my hunch is correct, my team and a small escort will set remote explosives on their hinges.”

  A younger woman with several different colored tassels adorning her uniform interrupts. “If we’re setting explosives, why don’t we just fly in there, give ‘em both broadsides, then fly back out? It’d be a hell of a lot easier, and save us a lot more men.”

  Unperturbed by the interjection, Diz turns to her. “I’d agree that would make this a tad bit easier. The only problem with that plan is the power of our own cannons. The shrapnel and heat created from the blasts would certainly kill quite a few Cascade, and maybe even cripple the Ark, but it would surely kill us all as well.” Diz pauses before looking to the rest of the gathered officers. “That being said, I’m fairly certain none of us are flying this far north to catch our own flak.”

  The tasseled woman twists her mouth, considering other simpler options.

  Assured that there will be no further interruptions, the Admiral picks up the conversation. “The second group to take advantage of the distraction will be our strike forces. Both Sabine and Raltz have volunteered to guide our teams down into the bowels of the Ark to where the Core is being housed.”

  Sabine motions for Diz to zoom in on the battle now in full pitch above us. “In order for our teams to be able to reach the Core, we have to break through the hangar’s main entrance. The difficulty is that the gate is also the main throughway for the Cascade’s boarding crew and any reinforcements they might receive.”

  The green triangles push the red ones back from the arch.

  Sabine continues, “We will have to create an opening and fight to maintain control of it until our strike forces can make the rendezvous point. I also realize achieving this goal is highly unlikely, so we may just have to make a run for it under covering fire from the Artemis if our line folds.”

  Sabine’s steel gaze meets the Admiral’s. “Once we reach the archway, I can guide our strike groups down maintenance passageways that are not likely to be used by the brunt of the Ark’s garrison. However, I cannot promise that our teams will not take casualties.”

  Sabine stops, straightening her shoulders as she addresses the rest of the officers. “In fact, it will be an arduous task that should only be undertaken by those who are truly willing to die for this cause.”

  My heart drops as the reality of the situation sets in. The collective stress of those around me escalates. Why did I lobby so hard for this?

  Captain Dixon leans o
ver table. “Admiral Khan, it would be my pleasure to lead the strike force.”

  The Admiral chuckles to himself. “Of course it would, Janna. As always, I appreciate your zeal, but I need your leadership on the deck, fighting the main battle.”

  Captain Dixon keeps a face of stone. “Understood Admiral. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  An older gentleman in charge of the gun decks steps forward. The soot on his face does little to tone down the rose color on his cheeks. “If my boys and girls are gonna be fightin’ from the lower decks to beat back the Cascade, then who’ll be leading the charge inta the heart of the beast?”

  The Admiral’s eyes flit to me. I break into a cold sweat before I can speak.

  Admiral Khan gestures. “Lieutenant Basmon will be leading the charge into the Core with Lieutenant Baltier serving as his second.”

  The bile rises. I will vomit right here and now.

  The Admiral continues, unaware of my flash sickness. “Both are good fighting men, and this assault is Lieutenant Basmon’s brainchild in the first place. It would only be fitting.”

  I do everything in my power to keep from fainting. Controlled deep breaths are my last defense to prevent the blackness from surrounding me. All eyes come to rest on me. From across the table, Baltier chews on unspoken words. I try to say something, but nothing comes out.

  Diz comes to my rescue. “I witnessed Lieutenant Basmon break through a bunker chokepoint on the Cornelia Marie almost singlehandedly. A fine choice Admiral.”

  She buys just enough time for me to clear the lump in my throat.

  “And by ‘almost single handedly’, Crew Chief McAlister means ‘with her help.’ I’ll have to improvise without her ingenuity at my side, but I’ll find a way to get the job done.” I finally speak up.

  This seems to satisfy the crowd, many of whom discontinue their intense gaze. I hope they can’t see my legs shaking from where they are. I thought I’d be watching this battle from the cockpit of a plane, far away from all of the gouging blades, flying bullets, explosions, and screams of the wounded and dying.

  From behind me, Stenia takes my hand and slowly removes it from its clamped position on the side of the table. I shake off the pain as blood rushes back into my fingertips. A quick glace down reveals my fingers are bone white.

  She places a hand on my back as the war games continue without us.

  “Don’t worry Sage. I’ll keep things together here. You take care of what needs to happen on the inside, ok?” she whispers.

  She’s reassuring me, but I know her well enough to hear the worry in her voice.

  A question is raised by one of the mechanics. “Even if we were to try executing this plan, how would we even go about finding the Ark? It must be at least a hundred miles away by now.”

  Sabine fields this one. “A valid question. I can answer it by giving you some information I discovered during the battle at Shipwreck.”

  She pulls up her sleeve, revealing her bloody, metal filled arm. “As you now know, when I first escaped the Ark, I was wounded by shrapnel from an explosion of Neodymium magnetite. We were unsuccessful in removing the foreign objects without risking a fatal hemorrhage,” she says.

  Sabine traces her fingers over the tangle of skin. “My body healed over many of the pieces, maintaining a firm hold on those that it cannot cover. If you remember, Neo magnetite is a highly magnetic material, which is how my father is able to mine it so efficiently. What I discovered, is that no matter where the Core is focused, it generates an auxiliary energy that attracts other metals. I didn’t recognize the sensation at first, because I had never experienced it before. However, when the Ark was at its closest, the magnetite buried inside my arm nearly freed itself at the cost of my life.”

  The group’s ghostly faces peer uncomfortably at Sabine’s arm.

  She seems unaware of their discomfort. “I will remain on the Bridge with Admiral Khan, using my body as a compass. If done correctly, I will not only point us in the right direction, but also sense how close our quarry is. This will save us time and resources, allowing us to keep our formation relatively tight.”

  She lets her sleeve slide over the bloody mess. “Once we dock with the Ark, I will be infiltrating the Core alongside Lieutenant Basmon and Lieuntenant Baltier. Raltz Tesarik will continue to function as my bodyguard. Should I be incapacitated, he has as much inside knowledge of the Ark as I do, if not more. In either event, he will make a fine guide.”

  ‘Should I be incapacitated’ . . .

  The cold grips the inside of my stomach as the gravity of the plan sinks in.

  The smell of blood pours back into my nostrils. A symphony of cries reverberates off the walls of the room. The girl’s pleading eyes look up to me again. I try to shake her, but I can’t get her face out of my head. I didn’t even realize she was dead. I let her pass on alone. Her fingers creep up the side of my back.

  Taking a deep breath, I force the darkness to clear again. With each breath, the pressure from the advancing hand diminishes, the last fingertip fading away as it grazes the back of my neck.

  “Can’t stand the thought of your own death? Some poor excuse for a leader.” The Voice chides.

  “Well, that caution is the same reason I’m here and you’re not.”, I say.

  My frustration ebbs as I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen members from all of the different crews in one place at the same time. The grizzled gun commanders sit right next to Diz and her engineers, formulating their own strategies. Small sections of the crew nurses press up against the side of the table, still speckled by the day’s work. Countless marines and pilots stand behind them with Stenia and her sniper team.

  Maybe there’s something to be gained from this struggle after all.

  17

  The cold beer is a perfect pick-me-up after a day of performing maintenance. I momentarily sit on an ammo crate, watching Cass as she works. She’s just as adept with a paint brush as she is with a suture. Her staccato brush marks cover the tail of my plane. A dusty-colored saber sits just over the back wings. Cass’s legs dangle over the side as she tries finding its center. Best not to waste paint if you can help it.

  “The color’s wrong!” I shout.

  I can’t help chiding her about it. How hard is it to mess up grey?

  She leans back, steadying herself over the wing. “Oh shut up Sage, we’re out of your shade of graphite.”

  I let myself laugh. “Whatever you say, hon. If Yeti’s going to try flying her, he better look damn good!”

  I can’t help but just watch her up there. Painting seems as natural to her as any other part of her life. It’s one of the few times I’ve ever seen her fully relaxed. That alone is worth everything we’re doing.

  The tone of the comm system reverberates throughout the hangar. It’s a full crew message. Those are rare, so it can only mean one thing. My heart sinks.

  Admiral Khan’s voice filters through the PA. “Attention all non-operational personnel. Please proceed to the Large Craft Hangar Bay. Again, please report to the Large Craft Hangar Bay. Attendance is mandatory.”

  I was hoping the Admiral was going to wait a few more days before doing this. It can’t possibly go well.

  Cass exhales, slowly lowering her brush back into the paint can. She doesn’t want to be a part of it either.

  We make our way outside and join the throngs of civilians and soldiers coursing through the Outer Rim. Marines line the way, flanking each side of the Roost’s bulkhead. They direct the flowing crowd towards its final destination. What’s the Admiral thinking? He’s going to scare passengers with these tactics.

  Maybe that’s the point.

  Speculation swirls around us as we climb the steps. Cass holds my arm so we won’t get separated in the current. We’re pressed shoulder to shoulder as we enter the Roost’s cavern. The last of the day’s sunbeams bleach the Artemis’s skeletal roof. The Roost’s forward bay is open to let in fresh air. It feels good, almo
st dispelling the heat generated by the mass of people, and the stress created by the unknown.

  Cass and I locate our crew mates in separate ranks within the military personnel. Captain Dixon patrols in front at full attention. When she sees me, she gestures me over with two upturned fingers. Breaking through the lines of crew, I see a small podium has been constructed to properly address everyone.

  I get within earshot of the Captain. “You can’t be serious. He wants me to talk?”

  “I’m damn serious. You better make a show of it too,” Dixon fires back.

  A lurking panic crawls into my chest. I’ve been dwelling on it for days now. I’ve talked with the shadows about it. Heard what they’ve had to say. Taken their revisions into account. But I’ve never said any of it to an actual person, much less the entire population of the Artemis.

  The chatter of a hundred different languages flows up from the crowd as I take my place on the podium. Luckily for me, English is the primary trade language, so I won’t have to struggle to translate my thoughts.

  Admiral Khan and several of his advisors are already seated. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking to my own gallows. My boots thud against the hollow planks that have been erected in order to make today happen. Admiral Khan nods, gesturing to the seat next to him.

  He says nothing as I sit down. My nails dig into the small rickety chair they’ve placed on stage. I look once more for any noose the Admiral may have tied for me. He doesn’t need any rope; he’s letting words do the hanging.

  For the next fifteen minutes, we watch in silence as the rest of the ship files in. I’m not focused enough to feel the anxiety. I’m so lost inside myself preparing that I don’t even attempt conversation with Khan, or notice the multitude of faces looking up at me.

  Once the Admiral’s satisfied his full crew is in attendance, he rocks out of his chair. Step by step, he paces to the microphone at the center of the podium. His action brings a hush over the crowd. For a moment, I imagine what having that kind of power would be like; being able to silence a thousand people by just making one movement.