Friends in Command (Sons of the Starfarers: Book IV)

by Joe Vasicek

  “Have you got her back?”

  Aaron shook his head. With Isaac missing, finding the girl seemed a lot less important.

  Mathusael grinned and slapped him on the back. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find her yet. And even if we don’t, it looks like you’ve made quite a name for yourself. I’ll bet your brother would be proud—where is he?”

  The question stung like a blow to the stomach. Aaron took a deep breath.

  “He’s, ah, MIA.”

  “Missing in action? Good lord, Aaron, I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

  “It was the Battle of Colkhia,” Aaron said, the words spilling out of him. “He was one of the secret operatives sent ahead of us to… Well, it’s classified, but he went in first. The surprise attack didn’t go off like we thought it would, and before we could regroup, everything went all to hell. Somehow, we managed to pull off a victory, but when we tried to pick up the pieces, Isaac…”

  He bit his lip and shook his head. Mathusael clasped a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Well, the war isn’t over yet. I’m sure you’ll do all you can to get him back.”

  Damn right I will.

  “So what have you been up to? How did a slacker like you get a commission?”

  Aaron brightened at the change in subject. “Well, like you said, I’ve been making a name for myself. Fought in all three battles of the first campaign and helped capture the Starfire, which turned the tide of battle. They made me a drop-ship pilot, and I guess I impressed them enough that they wanted to give me something bigger.”

  “I’ll say. At the rate you’re going, I expect you’ll make admiral before the end of this war.”

  “Yeah,” said Aaron. “What’s your assignment?”

  A knowing grin spread across Mathusael’s face. “Funny you should ask, Captain Deltana. I’ve been given the post of chief engineer on a certain light frigate: the Merope-7.”

  Aaron was stunned. “Ch-chief engineer? No way!”

  “Yes way. When I saw they made you captain, I asked to be assigned to your ship. Wanted to give you a little surprise when I came on board.”

  Spontaneously, Aaron gave him another hug. A couple of people passing them in the hallway turned their heads at his reaction, but he didn’t care.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard since the war started! It’s so great to have you with us, Mathusael! I can hardly wait!”

  “I’m glad, too,” Mathusael said, returning the embrace. “It’s gonna be one hell of a ride.”

  * * * * *

  For Mara, the next few days were mostly taken up with desk work. The platoon disbanded and the members went their various ways, but she was so caught up with her duties that she barely registered it. She went down to the station bar with her old platoon-mates and wished them luck with their new assignments, but her mind was on her upcoming tour.

  It took a lot of wrangling to get Castor, Pallas, and Apollo assigned to the Merope-7, but she was so persistent that Major Achilles eventually gave them to her just to make her relent. For a while, she was worried that Apollo would view his assignment to the helm as a demotion, since Aaron and him had both been equals in Paladin wing and Aaron had risen to captain. But if he felt any resentment, he was careful not to show it. In fact, he was careful not to show much of anything.

  Castor, on the other hand, seemed all too eager to accept his post as the ship’s quartermaster. He’d trimmed his mustache and grown a goatee, making him look like a new man. From the enthusiastic way he carried himself as he took up his new berth, it was clear that he felt like one as well.

  “Lieutenant Castor, reporting for duty,” he said, giving her a sharp salute at the airlock.

  “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. How are your wounds treating you?”

  “Healing well, thank you. They told me I need a bit more care, but since we’ve got medical facilities on board here, I decided to switch berths as soon as I could. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s going to be shooting at me anytime soon, right?”

  “Right,” she said. Her face fell a little, and she lowered her voice. “Lieutenant Castor, it was an honor serving under you in Fourth Platoon. I know we’ve swapped places in the command chain, but I just wanted to say—”

  “Mara,” he said, putting a hand on her arm, “let me assure you, I have nothing against serving under you. Things were pretty dark for me after the last battle, and I was just about ready to quit and go home. When you put my name in for quartermaster, it gave me the chance I needed to get out and save face. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  “Well,” she said, smiling ever so slightly, “the decision was Captain Deltana’s, but I played an advisory role.”

  “Thank you, Commander. Thank you very much.”

  He drew back his hand and gave her a salute, which she returned. With a quickened step, he picked up his bags and carried them to the freight lift for transport down to his quarters.

  The last officer to join the crew was their chief engineer. Since the higher-ups in the new fleet were the ones who made the decision, he was nothing to her at first but a name on a screen. But to Aaron, he was much more than that.

  “Mara!” he shouted, bursting into her quarters. “Guess what—Mathusael’s joining us!”

  Mara frowned. “Who’s Mathusael?”

  “Don’t you remember? Well, maybe not—he was a bit on the older side for you. Not that I’d put it past the folks back home to match you up with him.”

  “Wait, there’s another Deltan on the crew?”

  “That’s right,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “But it says here that he’s from the Esperanzia system. It’s right there in his name: Mathusael Esperanz.”

  “Well, he might not claim Delta Oriana, but he grew up on Megiddo Station just like us. Isaac and I paid him a visit just before we joined up with the Resistance. He’s married now, working a year-long shift at Alahambara Station on the outer edge of the system. I’m surprised he signed up for the war at all—it seemed like he wanted to avoid it.”

  “It’s hard to run away from war when it comes after you.” Or when it transforms you, for that matter.

  “I suppose,” said Aaron. “I met him at the commissary. He’s supposed to come in on the next ferry shuttle. Let’s go meet him!”

  Mara knew it was futile to dissuade him, so she went along. She had to admit she was curious, though. She hadn’t met another Deltan since Aaron had joined the platoon, so she definitely wanted to meet this fellow refugee from the Deltan diaspora.

  He wasn’t anything like she’d pictured him to be. In fact, if it weren’t for the way that he and Aaron talked excitedly in Deltan, she would never have guessed that he was one of them. He was short and heavyset, with stringy black hair and an enormous beard. For a uniform, he wore a gray engineer’s jumpsuit with a sash instead of a utility belt. His eyes were bright and jovial, but his smile was buried so deep in his beard that she could only see it when he laughed, which he did frequently.

  “Aaron, my boy! So good to see you again!”

  “You too, Mathusael,” said Aaron. They gave each other a brotherly hug.

  “Look at you—a captain!” said Mathusael with a wink. “I’ll bet the ladies can’t keep their hands off you now, eh?”

  “Well, I—”

  “You know what they say: it’s not how pretty your ship is on the outside, but the size of your gun that counts. Am I right, eh? Am I right?”

  And I could have been married off to this man, Mara thought to herself. She’d been in the platoon for so long that she’d forgotten her old life—the one that she would still be living as a refugee if her father’s murder hadn’t wrenched her so violently from it.

  “Chief, allow me to introduce you to my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Soladze. Mara, this is Chief Mathusael Esperanz.”

  Mara shook Mathusael’s hand. “Well met, Chief Esperanz. Welcome to the Merope-7.”

  “Soladze,” said Ma
thusael, stroking his voluminous beard. “I remember you. Your father was a poet and a writer, wasn’t he?”

  Mara’s gut clenched. “That’s correct.”

  “He was one of the few people back on Megiddo Station that I considered a friend. We used to swap stories and bounce ideas off of each other. A couple of his poems were translated and became quite popular among the starfarers in the south second quadrant. How is he doing these days?”

  “He’s dead.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the three of them, in which even the bustling activity of the docking terminal seemed distant and lifeless.

  “Well, it’s good to have you with us,” said Aaron at length. He slapped his friend on the back. “Welcome aboard.”

  * * * * *

  After what felt like a brief eternity, the day to embark finally arrived.

  Aaron was the first officer to enter the bridge. He stood at the center of the room in front of his command chair, surveying what was now his domain. The equipment all around him was so incredibly new, the view out the forward window all the more stunning for the fact that it was his. The window, the ship, the crew that now called him captain—it all felt like a crazy dream. Never in his wildest imaginations had he thought it would happen like this. But here he was, standing on the bridge of his own sleek warship, about to take her out on her first voyage.

  The officers came in one by one. Mara was first, followed by Lieutenant Apollo Vulcana. Lieutenants Phoebe Trellian and Jason Thetana were next, both of them old buddies from Fourth Platoon. Mathusael came last, dressed not in uniform but in a jumpsuit and utility belt. Just like the rest of them, he was ready to get to work.

  “All stations, report,” said Aaron once they were all gathered. Though he did his best to hide it, his hands twitched with nervousness and excitement.

  “Helm and astrogation is ready,” Apollo reported. “The coordinates are plugged into the nav-computer and we are good for jump.”

  “Engineering is a go,” said Mathusael.

  “Comms is ready at your orders,” said Phoebe. She looked almost as excited as Aaron.

  “Weapons and countermeasures fully online,” said Jason.

  “All systems and crew are accounted for, Captain,” Mara reported last. “We are ready to embark.”

  Aaron lowered himself slowly to the captain’s chair, his eyes fixated on the starry vista like a laser. “Take us out, Apollo. And may the stars of our homeworlds shine favorably upon us.”

  “Amen,” said Apollo.

  He pulled back on the lever to engage the jump drive, and the bulkheads began to hum. Aaron gripped his armrests as the hum grew to a steady throb. His stomach turned as the hum rose in pitch, then flipped as the throbbing reached its climax. For the briefest of seconds, he felt as if he were on the outside of the ship looking in at the stars, rather than on the inside looking out. But then, the sensation passed, and the humming returned to silence.

  Aaron released his grip on the armrests and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The Merope-7’s first tour of duty had begun.

  Foes and Allies

  The gray-brown protoplanetary disk of Vulcana gleamed with flecks of silver in the bluish-white light of its system sun. The main planet, Hephesteron, sat like a golden-black eye in the midst of a swirling vortex, disrupting the disk as it gobbled up gas and dust. At any time, fusion could ignite in the planet’s white-hot core, turning it into a star for a few thousand years. Until then, half of the people at Vulcana made their fortunes harvesting planetoidal ores in the vortex, and the other half brokering trades in the bustling orbital marketplace the ores had attracted.

  Mara eyed the scene coolly and recalled what little she’d managed to read about the system before their arrival. Located less than two light-years from Troya in the heart of the New Pleiades, Vulcana was a major trading port and Outworld hub. Hephesteron Station trailed the planet in an elliptical orbit that brought it outside of the protoplanetary disk for three standard years at a time, during which it serviced most of the interstellar commerce in the New Pleiades. In the brief periods when it dipped back into the protoplanetary disk and was inaccessible to most starships, the merchant activity shifted to the neighboring Troya system. Thus, the people of the two stars were locked in a heated rivalry, with Troya trying to set itself up as a more permanent center of influence and Vulcana continually winning back market share with its abundant harvest of ores. Hephesteron Station’s periodic isolation made it a poor choice for the capital system of the Outworld Confederacy, though, so Troya had won that honor.

  The Merope-7 was one of several ships heading to Troya by way of Vulcana. The view outside the forward window was filled with dozens of starships, almost all of them belonging to the new Outworld fleet. Mara knew that it should have heartened her to see the Outworld forces grow in strength so quickly. Instead, all she could think about was how none of their new warships was even half the size of an Imperial battlecruiser.

  “Chief, how much longer until the jump drive is charged?”

  “About half an hour, though we could leave now without much trouble. The reserves are at eighty percent, plenty to reach the next jump beacon.”

  “We’re not going to make the final jump until the captain is on the bridge,” said Mara. She gripped the command chair’s armrest with all the frustration that she wouldn’t allow to show in her face. “Vulcana, how’s our jump trajectory?”

  “Co-ordinates are locked in, Commander,” said Apollo. “We’re ready to jump on your—I mean, on the captain’s command.”

  “Very good. Inform me if anything changes while I find out what’s keeping him.”

  She rose from the command chair and left the bridge before letting any more of her anger show. To Aaron’s credit, it wasn’t like anyone else was on the bridge yet—Phoebe was in her quarters, and Jason was in the officers’ mess. They only needed a skeleton crew while flying in friendly territory, which gave them all a chance to get used to the ship. But Aaron should have reported to the bridge before now, and the fact that he was still in his quarters didn’t bode well at all.

  She stepped out of the elevator onto the officers’ deck and stopped at Aaron’s door. When he didn’t answer the chime right away, she used her authorization code to open the door. What she saw made her freeze mid-step.

  Aaron lay limp on his bed, dressed in his uniform but completely unconscious. On his head, he wore a dream monitor. The visor was down, covering his face, and the lights on the side panel showed that the machine was active.

  Clenching her teeth, Mara walked over to the computer terminal where the monitor was plugged in and shut the thing off. For a moment, Aaron lay still. Then, his arms twitched, and he began to stir. Mara folded her arms and resisted the urge to wrench the thing off of his head.

  “Deltana!” she yelled the moment he took it off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  He blinked and stared at her, uncomprehending, for a few seconds. Then, his eyes lit up with understanding, and he frowned.

  “What are you doing here, Mara? What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. We’re half an hour from our final jump and our captain is locked in his quarters playing on a dream machine!”

  “Dream machine? What are you talking about? I was using the monitor to run the—”

  “—the neural stimulator program? Stars, Aaron, that’s even worse!”

  “Why? How long was I under?” His eyes widened as he checked his wrist console. “Two hours? I’m sorry, Mara—I was only supposed to be in for half an hour, I swear.”

  Hot blood rushed to Mara’s cheeks. “Half an hour? You’re not supposed to be using that thing at all!”

  “But—but I need it,” Aaron stammered. “How else am I going to learn Gaian?”

  “The same way anyone masters a language,” said Mara. “By study and hard work. If you keep using that neural stimulator program, it’s going to fry your
brain so bad—”

  “I know, Mara. I know. But I have it under control. I can stop at any time.”

  “Oh, really? Then why aren’t you on the bridge right now, where you belong?”

  Instead of answering, he gave her a guilty pleading look, imploring her to understand. She rolled her eyes.

  “Aaron, you don’t need that program to do your job. You’ve mastered Gaian well enough already, and if you have any problems with it, you can always rely on me.”

  “I know,” he said softly, unable to meet her eyes. She took him by the shoulders and forced him to look straight at her.

  “You need to take care of yourself, Aaron. Understand? As the captain, you’re the one who holds this ship together. For all our sakes, you need to keep your body healthy and your mind sound. This addiction of yours—”

  “Do you doubt me, Mara?”

  She took a deep breath. There were things that she wanted to say to him that would do more harm than good. For all that they were friends, she didn’t know that an honest answer was the best thing to give him right now.

  “Don’t be a fool, Captain. We’ve passed through the jaws of death together, and I’m sure we’ll pass through them again.”

  While not exactly reassuring, her answer seemed to satisfy him. “Thanks, Mara. I’ll see you on the bridge.”

  Mara drew herself up and saluted before returning to the hall without a word. But when the door hissed shut behind her, her hands were clenched tightly into fists.

  How the hell was Aaron still using that damn thing? Didn’t he know the damage it could cause? He could lose his brain—turn into a vegetable. At all costs, she could not allow that to happen. It was her job to look out for him, after all—not just as his second-in-command, but as his friend. If she failed him, she didn’t know if she’d ever forgive herself.

  * * * * *

  Troya Station orbited New Constantine, the fourth planet of its blue-white system sun. New Constantine was far too young to have either a breathable atmosphere or indigenous life, but since it was a terrestrial world in its sun’s habitable zone, most of the system’s inhabitants lived on domes on the surface. A terraforming project was in the early stages of development, but the war had tabled those plans for at least another generation.