by Mike Smith
“When hell freezes over!” Jon replied grimly. “Any idea what they might attempt next?”
“Intelligence are guessing that they will continue to ramp up their attacks on our ships to increase the pressure on Vanguard and our customers. If that fails to work we assume either another attempt on your life or some sort of direct assault on Vanguard. As we have little presence off the station, we assume this will take the form of some sort of sabotage or assault on Terra Nova directly.”
Thinking for a moment Jon replied. “Ok, please let David know about the possible threat to station security and ask him to increase internal security. I will discuss the possible outside threat with Paul and come-up with a suitable response. Is there anything else?”
“Just one other thing, sir,” Jason continued. “You asked me to investigate the background of Miss Miranda.” So far nobody had managed to get her to divulge her last name. Hence the crew had simply become use to referring to her as Miranda or Miss Miranda.
“Has intelligence had any success determining her last name yet?” Jon replied in a rather ironic tone of voice.
Ignoring the perceived insult to his intelligence team, Jason continued. “Perhaps. With your permission we requested a sample of her DNA from the Doctor. It took us a long time but we finally found an exact match in some old records from one of the adjoining systems.” Jason handed a copy of the data to Jon who reviewed the results with interest.
“I notice that this is a very old record,” Jon commented checking the last update, which was dated almost 20 years earlier.
“That was why it took us so long to find the match,” Jason explained. “The record had long since been archived to long term storage, hence took a lot of time to access. I also draw your attention to the last update.” Jon flicked to the last update of the record, which detailed that the person had been legally declared dead for almost 20 years.
“I must confess that I find Miranda in remarkably good health for a person that was declared dead 20 years previously,” Jon commented sarcastically.
“According to the information from the records her parents were part of a crew of an inter-system deep space freighter. The freighter disappeared on a routine trip in the Aquila constellation. The ship was declared lost, with all hands a few years later. According to the records Miranda would have been approximately six years old when the ship was declared lost.”
“So…” Jon mused, “we have the mystery of a ship that has been missing for over 20 years, lost with all hands, or at least was so assumed, and now we find one of the crew, who would have only been six at the time, alive and well 20 years later working for the Syndicate. Would intelligence like to draw any conclusions from these facts?” Jon asked dryly.
“No sir,” Jason replied, realising that it would not be a good idea to speculate any further.
“Thank you for the information. It will be put to good use. Please pass on my thanks to the rest of your team.” Hearing the dismissal in Jon’s voice, Jason nodded his head in thanks and made quickly for the exit.
Meanwhile Jon turned back to the data pad that intelligence had supplied and started to review the information carefully.
*****
Sometime later Jon stepped into Security looking for Miranda. He had decided that it was time to have a face-to-face with their newest crewmember, to discuss - the past. Hence with data pad in hand, Jon decided to go hunting. Miranda had recently been assigned to Security during the last crew rotation and Jon had been carefully monitoring the security reports to try and guess whom Miranda was going to shoot… or kiss next. He noticed that security was almost empty except for McNeill, the station head of security reviewing a tactical map of the station with a frown.
“David! Any idea where I can find Miranda?” Jon inquired. David looked up obviously irritated by the interruption before he realised who the question originated from.
“No Sir!” David responded quickly straightening his posture as if he was preparing for a parade ground inspection. Jon was tempted to joke with the younger man that he could remain at ease, but guessed that this would make him even more uncomfortable. Some of the crew had made the transition from military life to civilian easily. Others, McNeill a case in point, had been less comfortable in civilian life and kept inadvertently reverting to a formal Navy mode of address. Privately Jon felt that he intimidated the younger officer, hence his nervousness kept causing him to leap to attention whenever he was around. For the twelfth time that day, and every day since the Imperial Navy had been disbanded by the newly formed Confederation, Jon cursed them for purging so many outstanding officers, people who had dedicated their lives to the service...
One of the motivations for establishing Vanguard had been to give these people a new purpose in life. Jon could give a first-hand account of the shock of going from a highly structured command environment with a clear mission, to a civilian life with no clear objective, mission or goal. Of course it did not hurt Vanguard in the slightest to be staffed almost entirely by highly trained, extremely motivated, ex-Imperial Navy who viewed every task as a military objective to be surmounted.
Meanwhile David realised that a slightly more informative answer might be helpful, hence added. “Her shift ended over an hour ago, possibly she might be in the mess hall having dinner…it is getting fairly late for second shift,” David added diplomatically politely reminding his boss, that it was getting fairly late in the evening, station time.
“Thanks David,” Jon replied distractedly before focusing on what his head of security was looking at. The large holoscreen in the office was currently displaying the tactical map of the station where a number of points had been highlighted.
“How is the security review going?” Jon inquired remembering that he had asked for this several days earlier, after being briefed on the escalating threat from the Syndicate Organisation.
“Not too badly,” David replied. “We have identified a number of weak spots within the station that could allow any boarding party to establish a bridgehead. The biggest issue we have is lack of tactical intelligence. Are we looking at a lone saboteur, limited boarding party or all-out invasion of the station by a heavily armed Syndicate division?”
Jon’s eyes widened in shock before he responded sarcastically, “Well let’s hope that your security team do not need to repel an entire division! Could be a struggle for your team to cope with a couple of thousand assailants,” Jon replied with a straight face. David could not tell if his boss was being sarcastic or not. He wisely decided not to reply to that comment.
“Well carry on,” Jon continued. “Let me have a copy of your report when you have identified all the weak-spots for the station and how you plan to deploy your security teams,” he said as he departed, continuing his search for Miranda in the mess hall.
*****
It was quite late for second shift; hence the mess hall was fairly empty by the time that Jon arrived. Just a few stragglers were finishing a late dinner before heading to their quarters for the ‘night’. However, there were a couple of small groups relaxing with drinks after dinner.
Terra Nova had originally been designed as a remote resupply & repair outpost where crews would have normally been rotated every six months. Therefore social areas were limited in number and size. With Jon’s permission, Paul had converted one of the smaller repair shops into a small cinema and some of the observation decks had been converted into lounges where couples could relax when off-shift; however the mess hall was still the place to congregate for food or to relax with some friends over a drink.
Upon entering the mess hall, Jon’s gaze darted around the room and quickly came to settle on Miranda. She was sharing a drink with a couple of the other young women on the station. Jon recognised a few from the flight deck and security, along with a couple from various other departments. Miranda was laughing at something that one of her companions had said, and was obviously enjoying herself. Jon was glad to see that she seemed to have integrated
herself well into the crew and a small part of him was glad that the table seemed to consist of female crew only and that a certain young officer from communications was nowhere in sight.
Jon quickly suppressed that line of thought!
Reluctant to interrupt the group, Jon decided to have a drink and wait for them to disperse before approaching her. He had a delicate subject to bring up and would prefer to have the discussion without a crowd of onlookers. Collecting a coffee, Jon slipped into one of the comfortable seats next to the window and gazed out, taking the odd sip from his glass thoughtfully, trying to think how best to bring-up the difficult topic ahead.
*****
“Don’t look now!” Sarah from Operations whispered quietly to the group. “But eye-candy has just walked in!”
As was always the case, everybody ignored the edict and all eyes swivelled towards the entrance to the mess hall. Observing the Commander as he poured himself a drink and took a seat by the window, alone.
“I wonder what crisis took place to draw him out of his office? The guy practically lives there,” one of the girls from security, whose name Miranda had forgotten, commented.
“I’m not complaining,” another chimed in. “He can just sit there and I can admire the view. Hey Cassie, I thought you said that you were going to ask him out for dinner?” She left the question hanging in the air.
“I did, but he politely declined, said that he was too busy,” Cassie sighed deeply. “According to station scuttlebutt some girl broke his heart many years ago, and he still carries a torch for her…”
Miranda who had never had many female friends looked around the table in astonishment, at all the dreamy sighs that followed that statement.
“So the Commander is not married? Paul mentioned that he has a family so I just assumed…?”
“Have you ever seen him with anyone?” Sarah responded. “No that man is single, and such a waste, if I ever find the woman that broke his heart, I’ll, I’ll…”
“You’ll have to get in line…”
Miranda looked around, surprised at the fierce expressions that had appeared on the faces of the women around the table. “Isn’t it the Commanders choice?” she asked, confused.
“But it’s such a waste! He is so good-looking,” Cassie wailed.
“And good with kids… Don’t you remember how he took Castle’s daughter out for a ride in his shuttle on her last birthday?”
“I overheard the senior officers talking once. It seemed like the Imperial Princess broke his heart, or was it the other way around. I cannot remember.”
“You mean the Emperor’s daughter?” Miranda interjected.
“Yeah, it seems like she and the Commander were close before his death. You all know the story about how he helped her to escape the fleet and flee to Eden Prime.” Another chorus of sighs echoed around the table.
“Typical,” Cassie muttered. “It’s always the Princesses that get the good-looking guys. Hopefully she will grow old and die a spinster,” she added spitefully.
*****
It was sometime later that the sound of Miranda’s group breaking up for the night roused him from his thoughts. Glancing at the chronometer in the mess hall he was surprised at how late it was. Noticing that Miranda was almost at the exit to the mess hall Jon quickly lengthened his stride to catch-up with the young woman before he lost her.
Walking abreast of her, he caught her eye and politely inquired, “I know that it is late but can you spare a few minutes of your time to discuss something?”
Obviously surprised at the encounter and curious why she had not just been called to his office Miranda nodded her head in agreement.
Jon cast his gaze around the corridor, really not wanting to have this conversation in such a public place. Noticing the entrance to one of the observation lounges, which was sure to be unoccupied at such a late hour he motioned towards the entrance and with a polite wave of his hand, allowed her to enter first.
Upon entering the observation lounge Jon had a quick glance to make sure that they were alone for this conversation. Confirming that they were the only ones present, Jon approached Miranda who was staring at the stunning view. Being situated above the docking ring it gave a spectacular view of the station and the main docking ring and Jon could just make out the light from the drive engines of one or two arriving or departing ships.
“I imagine that you find this room quite claustrophobic?” Miranda broke the silence with a smile. Jon was confused as the lounge was fairly large and they were the only occupants, until Miranda tapped her hand against the window to clarify her meaning.
Quickly catching on that Miranda was referring to the energy field in his office he replied. “I’ll get over it. I have come to realise that not many people appreciate being separated from the cold vacuum of space by only a thin layer of photons.” Deciding upon a somewhat oblique angle to start this conversation Jon inquired. “I have been meaning to congratulate you on your skills as a pilot. They are truly exceptional.”
Miranda frowned for a moment before replying. “Obviously not good enough, seeing that you escaped without a scratch and I managed to collide with an asteroid, completely destroying my ship and only just managing to escape with my life. No thanks to you,” Miranda added bitterly.
Realising too late that this was probably not the best opening topic, but now being committed, Jon continued, “Well… I had the element of surprise on my side. The ‘Light is not your average ship,” Jon responded in a light tone hoping to erase some of the bitterness from the younger woman.
“The ‘Light?”
“My nick name for the Eternal Light.”
“The ‘Light,” Miranda replied, rolling the name on her tongue. “I like it, and it seems a good name for such an amazing ship.”
“Maybe I’ll let you fly her one day,” Jon replied, quickly biting his tongue, unsure where that last comment came from. He never let anyone else pilot his ship, going as far to pilot her himself when just changing docking ports at the station. Miranda however, did not seem to notice.
“So how did you learn to fly like that?” Jon pressed, continued trying to steer the conversation back in the direction of the real topic that he wanted to address.
Miranda just shrugged at the question. “I have been living on ships or stations of one kind or another ever since I can remember. I expect I was crawling around cockpits before I could walk!” She exclaimed with a laugh. “Anyway, I was always asking what this button did, or that button. I guess before I knew it I understood all the functions and procedures on the ship. Therefore sometimes they let me co-pilot the ships. After a few years of this I was piloting the ship part time, then full time. I guess I was just a natural…I love flying,” Miranda explained wistfully. “The only time I ever feel free is when I am flying.”
“Do you remember much of your childhood?” Jon asked softly trying to bring up the topic that he wanted to discuss.
“Not much,” Miranda admitted. “I was told that my parents died in a freighter accident when I was very little; luckily they managed to rescue me in time.”
“You do not remember anything about your parents? You never tried to find out if you had any other family?”
“No, I was told that I was an only child and that I had no other family. Why all these questions?” Miranda finally asked starting to get suspicious of Jon continuing to press her regarding her family and past.
“I just find it strange,” Jon chose his words carefully. “You seem to have no family… no past. You said that you were rescued from a freighter, but we can find no records of a freighter being found and especially no mention of a survivor. Space is a huge place Miranda, when ships are lost they are almost never found. A failure during FTL will at best drop you deep into interstellar space between systems. The area is so vast no ship would ever be found, any distress signal would take years to reach the nearest habited system. At worst, a ship would be crushed by the gravity of the collapsing wormhole le
aving… nothing. The likelihood of a catastrophic accident that killed your family, while sparing you with rescuers close enough to save you is…improbable at best,” Jon explained gently. “The only way for such an event to have occurred is for your rescuers to have already been there, before the accident that killed your parents. It is just as unlikely that an accident would occur just as your rescuers happened to arrive… Your ship was attacked Miranda, your parents more than likely killed in the attack,” Jon concluded sorrowfully.
Miranda started to back away from Jon, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” she retorted. “You’re making this up. You are just trying to turn me against the only family I have. They rescued me, raised me and gave me everything that I have!”
“No,” Jon replied urgently, trying desperately to make her see the truth. “They have used you and now discarded you after you failed them. The same way they use everybody else to get what they want. All they care about is power, domination and wealth. You do not have to take my word for it. You have full access to the communications and computer resources of the station. You can conduct your own search. However, you will find the same that my team did. In the past 30 years the computer only found a few dozen cases of shipboard accidents where one or more crew survived. All these took place in close orbit or proximity to one of the populated systems or stations where rescue teams were quickly scrambled. All of those accidents were widely reported and none mention a young girl being rescued from the ship. Widening the search parameters to all reported missing ships for the past 30 years that had a young girl aboard only returned one result.” Jon offered Miranda the data pad that he had been holding that contained the information found by Jason, before summarising it. “The ship was a long range inter-system freighter called the Keplar reported missing 20 years ago, a crew complement of 29 with one beautiful six year old, with dark hair and brown eyes called Miranda. She was the daughter of the pilot and one of the flight engineers. We could only find one picture…”
Jon touched the symbol to access the photo library on the data pad and brought up a picture of a young couple holding a small girl in their hands. The girl had short dark hair and sparkling brown eyes with an impish grin.
