by Joe Vasicek
Yes, Aaron thought to himself. I certainly will.
“Where do you think she is right now? Is she alive? What are the Imperials doing to her?”
Isaac sighed. “I don’t know. They seized her as contraband, so they probably haven’t thawed her yet. If they have, then hopefully they’ll treat her well.”
“Fat chance of that, with the war going on.”
“Maybe.”
Aaron frowned. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? She’s in danger—we’ve got to save her.”
“I know, I know. We’ll get her back. But you’ve got to understand, she doesn’t know anything about us. For all she knows, the Imperials rescued her.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Okay, I won’t. But when they wake her up, she won’t know how she got there. As much as you obsess over her, she doesn’t even know you exist.”
Aaron’s headache returned in spite of the healant. He groaned and rubbed his forehead.
“Even if she doesn’t know about us, we’ve got to help her,” he said. “It’s our fault that the Imperials have her now, our fault that she’s so far from home. Or what’s left of it, anyway. We can’t just let them take her.”
“So you’re finally taking responsibility for something?” Isaac said with a grin. “That’s a change.”
Aaron groaned and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How long before we arrive?”
His brother checked his wrist console. “Jump drive’s almost charged. We’re about point-six-four light-years out, so another two dayshifts.”
“Is there any way we can speed that up?”
“Not safely. Besides, we’re probably going to do a lot of waiting around anyways. The Pleiadians might be assembling a navy, but that doesn’t mean they’ll set out as soon as we join up.”
“I know,” Aaron sighed, burying his head in his hands. “It’s just—I’ve got this feeling, you know? It’s like a premonition or something. I know that the dream probably won’t come to pass, but it feels like a sign of something, you know?”
His brother reached across the table and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know the feeling. I’ve had a few dreams like that myself.”
“You have?”
“Yes,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. He looked Aaron in the eye. “You remember when we used those EVA suits to escape the Imperial battleship?”
“Yeah. We barely latched onto the Medea before the nav-computer jumped her out.”
“Remember right before that? How you were drifting away because you didn’t know how to read the suit menus, and I had to come out and grab you?”
“Yeah?”
Isaac withdrew his hand and took a deep breath. “That’s my nightmare. I dream that you’re drifting in front of me, but before I can get to you the Medea jumps out and leaves you there. The next thing I know, I’m alone in deep space, and you’re gone forever.”
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Aaron shivered, and not from the cold.
“Well, at least it didn’t happen like that.”
“It could have. The dream feels so real while I’m in it, but it’s not a premonition. So just because this nightmare seems real to you, it doesn’t make it a premonition either.”
“Maybe,” Aaron admitted. Inwardly, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Isaac rose to his feet. “Well, I’d better get ready for the next jump. You get some sleep. It’ll help us get there faster.”
“Right.” They’d been alternating shifts, jumping as soon as the drives were fully charged, ever since their escape from Colkhia. It meant that they saw less of each other, but it also meant that they’d arrive at their destination that much sooner.
Isaac ducked through the doorway to the cockpit, and Aaron stood up and rubbed his eyes. His brother was right. Nightmares or not, he needed to sleep. But even though the image had mostly faded from his mind, he could still remember the feeling of powerlessness as the henna girl disintegrated before his eyes.
Hopeful Partings
Aaron could barely contain himself as the Medea started the final jump. The low hum through the bulkheads rose in pitch, and the perspective of the room around him began to warp. This was a short jump—more for precision than for distance—so there was little more than a slight fluttering of his stomach as the ship passed almost instantaneously to its target destination.
The stars at their exit point looked no different than they had before, the millions of tiny lights shedding their soft, omnipresent glow on the deep space starfield. The scanners, though, picked up a large object about fifty thousand kilometers off the ship’s bow. It was a small, terrestrial rogue planet, barren and without an atmosphere. Without a sun, it drifted alone in the void between stars.
His main screen flashed. “Looks like an incoming transmission,” he said. “Text and audio, coming from the direction of the planet.”
“Put them on,” said Isaac. “I’ll talk to them while you establish our trajectory.”
Aaron nodded and switched the message onto the cockpit main display. As he used the local nav beacons to determine their heading and position relative to the planet’s gravity well, he kept an eye on the incoming messages.
A young woman’s voice came through the audio feed. As Aaron had expected, she spoke in Gaian, so he couldn’t understand her. The Gaian language was much more prevalent in the New Pleiades than anywhere else in the Outworlds—even the local creole was thick with it. Fortunately, the computer’s autotranslator soon kicked in.
“Attention unsignified starship,” the screen read as the woman’s voice carried over the speakers. “This is
As Isaac replied, the autotranslator transcribed his words to text and ran them through the autotranslator subroutines so that Aaron could follow along.
“This is a starship of Aaron and Isaac Medea, we are to looking for a man named Argo, he it was
The autotranslator had always had difficulties translating to and from Aaron’s native Deltan. The Deltan language was so obscure that the databases the algorithms relied on were all far too small to render much more than gibberish. Even with the substantial modifications Isaac had made, it wasn’t enough. Aaron hated relying on the autotranslators.
“Can you tell me what she says?” he asked softly. “I—”
Isaac silenced him with a wave of his hand as the woman answered. Aaron frowned. Why did his brother have to be such a jerk about it? Folding his arms, he turned to the screen.
“Copying Medea,
“What did she say?” he asked, a little louder. Still, Isaac ignored him.
“We are hopefully,
Aaron flipped off the autotranslator in disgust. Just because Isaac was the oldest, that didn’t mean he had a right to cut Aaron off or treat him like a little child. They were brothers, and that meant that they should be equals, no matter who was younger or older. If only Isaac would let Aaron prove himself, he’d see that Aaron was just as good at handling responsibility as he was.
At length, the message cut, and a new transmission came in, this one with flight plans to dock with a small station in low orbit around the planet.
“What did she say?”
“She said that Argo is here,” Isaac answered. “Along with the whole flotilla. They heard about the invasion of Colkhia just before we arrived, and decided to mass here in order to save time.”
“What about Argo? Is he expecting us?”
Isaac shrugged. “How should I know? He’s probably very busy.”
“Why didn’t you ask her?” Aaron asked. “Stars, if I had been talking, that’s the first thing I would have asked her.”
“If you want to do the talking, you should put more effort into your language studies and spend less time playing dumb games in the simulator.”
Aaron’s cheeks reddened, and he clenched his fists. “Why do you always have to treat me like I’m a little kid?”
“Calm down, calm down. Sheesh. I didn’t mean anything by it. But seriously, if you want to get around by yourself in these parts, you’re going to have to try harder to learn the language.”
“You think I don’t already know that?” Aaron muttered, softly enough that his brother couldn’t hear him. He was right, though. After letting out a long breath, he turned to his work without another word.
The flight plans were pretty basic. A number of ships were parked above the rogue plant in a high parallel orbit, but they were far enough from the station that they shouldn’t be too difficult to avoid. As he checked their signatures, he saw a wide variety of starship designs, only a few of which he recognized. There could be no doubt that it was the Flotilla, the largest allied military force of its kind ever organized in the history of the Outworlds. If anyone was going to defeat the Imperials, it was them.
And then Isaac will see that I’m not just a kid, Aaron fumed to himself. When I’ve proved myself in battle and rescued that girl the Imperials took from us, he’ll see that I can handle things well enough on my own.
He could hardly wait to leave and get started.
* * * * *
“Ah, Isaac,” said the tall, dark-skinned man who met them at the airlock. His long black hair was pulled back, exposing his wide, angular forehead. “And Aaron—so good to see you both. Welcome to New Hope Station.”
Aaron recognized him at once as Argo, the Resistance recruiter they’d met at Vulcana. Even if he’d forgotten the man’s face, the fact that he was speaking Deltan—not Outworld creole laced with Deltan, but Aaron’s pure, native language—would have been enough to tip him off.
Isaac nodded graciously as he and Aaron stepped out into the docking node. The doors were little more than hatches, with a lip of almost half a meter between the bottom and the floor. The station itself looked as if it were hastily cobbled together from a hodgepodge of spare capsules and obsolete components, but she held together well enough and the air inside was clean. If anything, the ruggedness gave the outpost a military flavor, which Aaron found thrilling.
“Thanks for meeting us,” said Isaac. “I hope we didn’t pull you away from anything.”
“Not anything important,” Argo said. He led them through another hatchway into a dimly lit corridor that bent up sharply on either end, clearly running the length of the station wheel. “I’m glad you arrived when you did. We’re mustering for our first major campaign, and we need all the pilots we can get.”
“The operator at docking control told us that you already learned about the Imperial invasion of Colkhia.”
“Yes, we heard about it just a week ago. The Imperials have forced our hand, which is why we have to move quickly. Your assistance in the war effort will be greatly appreciated.”
“How soon can we join?” Aaron blurted.
Isaac reddened a little, but Argo didn’t seem to notice. “As soon as you would like. We’re outfitting two new battle groups right now, so you’d have your pick of positions.”
“Really?”
“Wait just a second,” said Isaac. “Aaron doesn’t speak hardly any Gaian. I assume he’s not the only one, since you seem to be pulling recruits from all over the Outworlds, but isn’t Gaian the dominant language in the New Pleiades?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then isn’t that going to be a problem?”
Argo frowned and scratched his chin. “It might be. There aren’t many Deltan speakers in the Flotilla, and certainly not among the officers.”
“I can learn!” Aaron interjected. “I’m a fast learner. And I can speak a little Gaian. Enough to get by, at least.”
“You’re going to need a lot more than bartering skills if you’re going to cut it as a cadet,” said Isaac. “Unless you want to come with me on one of the trade convoys.”
And never get a chance to prove myself?
“I’m afraid that Isaac is right,” said Argo. “Since all the commanding officers speak Gaian, your options are going to be limited.”
Aaron’s heart fell, and his stomach sank. He mentally kicked himself for not making more of an effort to learn the language earlier. Up until now, he’d been able to get by with a few words and phrases. Most outworlders spoke a creole anyway. But here in the New Pleiades, the Gaian influence was much stronger, and his haphazard repertoire wasn’t going to cut it. As much as he hated to admit it, his own laziness had turned around to bite him.
“I’ll learn as fast as I can,” he said. “Two, three months—that’s all I need.”
“Unfortunately,” said Argo, “we don’t have that much time. The Gaian Imperials have already taken Colkhia, Bacca, and Iayus. They’re moving in from the frontier now, and if we don’t hit them before they can consolidate their gains, we may never be able to push them back.”
Dozens of footsteps sounded ahead of them, striking in unison with military precision. Argo motioned for them to step aside as a line of soldiers in gray exercise clothes came jogging into view. Because of the curvature of the station, Aaron couldn’t see their faces until they were only a few meters ahead of them. Most of them were men, but a young brunette woman met his eye. She looked strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her. Without acknowledging him, she jogged by with the other soldiers.
“Physical training,” Argo explained. “We’re tight on space until we can find transports for all our troops. No shortage of infantry volunteers, though.”
“You’re not going to join the infantry, are you?” Isaac asked. It took Aaron a moment to realize that the question was directed at him.
“What? No, of course not.”
The relief on his brother’s face was evident. Aaron knew that Isaac didn’t relish the idea of watching him going off to war, especially in a position where he’d see combat. But how could Aaron prove himself if he stayed behind in the supply convoys? Besides, the girl in the cryotank was in Imperial hands now. His only chance at rescuing her was to get as close to the front lines as he possibly could.
“We already have enough infantry,” Argo continued as he led them further down the corridor. “What we really need are pilots.”
“I don’t suppose we have enough time to outfit the Medea for combat?” Isaac asked.
Argo sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. You’ll have to join a supply convoy or fly courier missions if you want to keep your ship. I assume you don’t want to sell it.”
Isaac’s cheeks visibly paled. For a star wanderer, that was unthinkable. Starships were handed down from generation to generation and served as a wanderer’s only home until he found a place to settle down. Aaron knew that his brother would never sell the Medea, which was why he’d asked about outfitting her for combat. If the Medea could only play a supporting role in one of the supply convoys, then he and Isaac would have to part ways for a time. Well, they didn’t have to—not if Aaron changed his mind about seeing combat—but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“There aren’t any combat positions open for the Medea, then?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Unless—”
Argo stopped in front of one of the portholes and lifted a hand to his chin. Outside, the curved silhouette of the airless horizon stood out against the backdrop of stars. Aaron glanced out at the view as Argo gathered his thoughts.
“Come to think of it, there is something you might be able to help out with. It’s not combat, exactly, but it will keep you close to the front lines. However, we’ll need to get clearance in order to approve the position.”
“What about me?” asked Aaron. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll find something. Let’s go speak with Admiral Tully.”
They set off again down the corridor. Aaron fell in step behind the others as they passed through a particularly narrow hatchway. They climbed a steep set of stair
s onto a deck with grated industrial floors and half a dozen computer terminals embedded in the walls. Men and women in mismatched uniforms attended to their work, barely noticing the newcomers. The place was so crowded that they had to shoulder their way through at a couple of points.
“The war room is just ahead,” Argo explained. “There’s a Council meeting scheduled in the next half hour, but Admiral Tully should be free and I’m sure she’ll want to meet you.”
They passed through one more hatchway into a circular room with a holographic projector in the center. Chairs lined the walls, on which several wallscreens displayed various starship schematics. On the far side of the room, a short, gray-haired woman in a spotless white uniform worked on a hand-held tablet. She wore a cybernetic enhancement that covered both ears and stretched over her hair around the back of her head.
Argo spoke to her in Gaian, and she walked over to greet them. She looked Isaac in the eye and gave him a curt handshake, then did the same for Aaron.
“Hello,” he said.
From the way she smiled, it was clear that she couldn’t understand him.
I have to do everything I can to learn the language, Aaron thought as she turned back to Argo and Isaac. The three of them were soon engrossed in conversation. With nothing else to do, his eyes strayed to the wallscreens, but even there, all the labels were in Gaian.
It was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought.
* * * * *
After speaking with Admiral Tully, Argo led them to the recruiting office, little more than an oversized mechanical closet cleared out for clerical work. They spent about half an hour filling out forms and registering themselves. Even though his brother had to help him, Aaron found that part easy enough.
Then Argo led him to the station’s medical bay, where the doctor ran him through a series of physical tests. Since Isaac was busy and Argo had other duties to attend to, Aaron had to figure out how to communicate by himself. He tried speaking in Outworld creole, but the local blend of languages was so different from what he was used to—and so interlaced with Gaian—that the doctor and nurses could barely understand him, even with their autotranslators. That was frustrating enough, but it was made all the more embarrassing by the fact that he was wearing nothing but a flimsy patient’s gown throughout the whole ordeal. One of the nurses giggled every time he misunderstood the doctor’s commands, and even though she was kind of cute, he couldn’t wait to get back in his clothes and leave. Before the tests were over, the doctor seemed ready to tear out his hair and the nurse was practically rolling on the floor. Aaron walked out with red cheeks and a severely bruised ego.
