by C. C. Ekeke
Again the Amalgam fired, but the warship righted itself in time for a hasty jump into hyperspace. Its exodus was marked by a white flash, which the Amalgam’s energy beam cut through an instant later. That left the Phaeton hovering before the gargantuan battle station like a speck of dust. Marguliese cast a rather icy stare at the station, making Habraum a bit wary.
“We got comms back,” Sam gaped at her console. “And the Amalgam’s hailing us.”
“Send it through,” Habraum ordered.
On the viewscreen, a weathered, red-skinned Kedri appeared, dressed in full Imperium raiment. “I am Potentiary Biros of House Nor. Do you require assistance?”
Two more bright flashes. Two Century-Class UComm Hammerjacks breaking from hyperspace.
“We’re fine, Biros. Thanks for the assist.” Habraum forced a smile at the Kedri. The adrenaline had worn off, and it took his best acting to look impassive as the throbbing of his injuries rushed back. But pain didn’t dull Habraum’s relief. His combat team was safe.
Upon returning to Hollus Maddrone, Habraum barely had time to change from his ruined officer’s uniform and get medical treatment, the latter action under a sidesplitting threat about doctor’s orders from Liliana. That girl had seriously grown enough spine for two sentient beings. Then came Habraum’s debriefing with the allegedly competent UComm higher-ups on Terra Sollus.
That was when his relief died.
“Please expound this for me,” Habraum put hands on hips, barely staying calm. “Maelstrom is hiding somewhere in Union Space, plotting his next strike. And UComm won’t actively deal with him or the Korvenite internment situation, until after the Trade Merger?” Marguliese and Khrome stood in front of Habraum’s Ready Room desk, ignoring each other with much success.
“Captain,” Assistant Director Greenwald stared back at Habraum from his TriTran console with patronizing calm. “We will capture Maelstrom. UComm Border Security has the description of that Korvenite warship you sent should it try fleeing Union Space. PLADECO forces on planets with high human populations are on Code Pitch-Black alert. AeroFleet warships are tracking the ship’s h-jump signature. But right now, the whole galaxy has its eyes on this merger.”
“All the more reason to handle Maelstrom now and make paces toward fixing how Korvenites are treated,” Habraum gestured at the viewscreen with both hands to emphasize his point.
Greenwald raised an eyebrow. “I am merely following orders from the UIB and the Union Bicameral. Besides, what can a ragtag group of Korvenites do to Union Command?”
Habraum couldn’t believe the pigheaded arrogance. “So my combat team almost dying because Maelstrom breached a supermax Protectorate means nothing?”
“Of course not. But with what’s occurring in the next two days, now is a bad time.”
“And Admiral Hollienurax is onboard with this?” Habraum asked, stone-faced.
“Yes,” Greenwald answered. Like he had a choice, his glower suggested. “Are you?”
“Absolutely.” Habraum saw no point in wasting breath on deaf ears. “Nwosu, out.” He ended the call, sick of looking at Greenwald. The Union wanted to put a bandage on a malignance that could devour them. The Cerc’s fury grew so strong, he began quivering.
“Captain?” Khrome asked, looking unusually powerless.
Unable to govern himself, Habraum raised a glowing fist to ram it down through his desk.
“Anger is ultimately fruitless in this situation, Habraum.” The Cerc froze, eyes narrowed. The emotionless timbre of Marguliese’s voice just made him angrier.
“If I want to express my anger at this government’s stupidity, that’s my business!”
“Acting petulant will not solve your difficulties,” Marguliese’s gaze and voice were unyielding. “You will then have a ruined table to clean up.” Habraum lowered his fist, his power winking off. The nasty burns and gashes on her golden skin were unsettling, but appeared to be healing rapidly.
“She has a point, Captain,” Khrome muttered.
Habraum eyed the Thulican sharply. “Don’t you have a status report, Lieutenant?”
The bile in his query caught Khrome off-guard. “There were serious structural damage to Phaeton’s hull and hyperdrives. Nothing I can’t handle in a few orvs.”
“Get to it, then,” Habraum snapped. Khrome recoiled, but still saluted and left the Ready Room.
Khrome didn’t earn such bite. Habraum recognized that as soon as he said it. But thanks to Maelstrom, old memories the Cerc had finally buried these past few months had come unglued. Long-forgotten joys and half-healed traumas had been ripped wide open again. Only his responsibilities and sheer force of will kept him whole.
I’ll apologize later. “How much did you get?” Habraum asked Marguliese, once the door slid shut.
“Everything, until my assault.” The Cybernarr’s metallic arm, damaged as it was, morphed and flowed at the forearm. Tiny cybernetics shaped a small octagonal datacard in her palm, which she handed to Habraum. “I’ve retained a copy in my memory and another into Brigade Intelligence’s records.”
“Brilliant,” the Cerc sighed and placed the yellow, paper-thin card in a desk slot. Their trip to Alorum may not have been a total loss with this footage. “Maybe in the right hands, this can open some eyes.”
Marguliese arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Why would this change your government’s stance?”
Her coldness annoyed Habraum, even though he knew it was just how she was. “I have to hope.”
“Hope is irrelevant,” the Cybernarr continued in her monotonous voice. “No species ever learns the lessons of internment from history, no matter how advanced they claim to be; the Ganttarians with the Cybernarr, the earthborn with the Korvenites, the Cybernarr with the Thulicans, are all examples of this.”
That was a bitter truth for Habraum to swallow. “Why did the Cybernarr go after the Thulicans?” He didn’t know why he asked, but it was either that, succumb to the swarm of unbidden memories in his head or snap at Marguliese for her heartless pragmatism.
“The Cybernarr imperative is to strive toward perfection; observing organic species, then harvesting their best genetic aptitudes for augmentation into the organic sections of existing Cybernarr and future archetypes to be created. That is why we keep our neighboring species in the Dracius Cluster under control, crafting the environments best suited to stimulate their evolution.”
Crafted environments? Habraum, aghast, suddenly regretted his questioning.
Marguliese continued, either not detecting or ignoring his horror. “Like the Cybernarr, the Thulicans were created by another race, but lack many of our organic flaws. The assessment was that the Thulicans’ architects had yet to reach their genetic apex, like the Ganttarians had long ago. If we Cybernarr could integrate the Thulicans’ gifts, we would reach that much closer to perfection.”
“Were you ever able to cull what you needed from the Thulicans?” the Cerc couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know everything and nothing about this subject.
“No,” her inorganic eyes softened into deep blue pools, and for a moment Habraum swore he detected the tiniest waver in the Cybernarr’s voice. “But after my son Orion was murdered, I alone felt no further compulsion for perfection. What had made my existence perfect…was taken from me.”
Seeing the dispassionate Marguliese emotionally exposed struck Habraum acutely. “Maggie—.”
Her left eye flashed a jagged blue starburst, and the moment passed. “I will return to my assigned quarters and regenerate,” Marguliese’s eyes hardened, her voice going flat and mechanical once more. “Contact me if you require my assistance.” The discussion had ended. She stuck her hand on the desk, then a shimmer shot from her waist to her head and toes, covering her in light. The shimmer coalesced back at her waist again and she was gone.
Habraum sat heavily on his chair and exhaled. Maelstrom’s attack had left him drained, physically and emotionally. He and CT-1 had barely survived. Then there was Margul
iese’s revelation. He reached over his desk’s touchscreen console to make a call… realizing then who he was about to call.
Rogguts! The Cerc jerked back his hand as if stung. He used to call his wife after a mission, to tell her he’d survived and then unload about his mission without revealing any classified details. Jennica had moored him to reality, sharing in either successful missions or buoying him up after failures. But his wife was dead and gone. The sharp reminder speared Habraum through the gut, joining the renewed agonies gathering in his mind, breaking him down. He put his head in both hands, a vain attempt to ward off the inner onslaught. Will it ever get any easier without her?
The doorbell chimed, rescuing Habraum from the answer. With considerable effort he shook off the anguish. “Come,” the Cerc didn’t look up as the door hissed open.
“Way to make a lady feel welcome, babe.”
Habraum looked up as Sam sauntered in, the snug navy blue zipped hoodie and army green cargos she wore accentuating her curvy physique. She had her blonde locks stick-straight and parted down the middle, tucked behind both ears. Seeing her in one piece brought a smile to his face. “Hey, Sammie.”
“Hullo, Habraum,” she smiled back as she approached. Habraum loved that lopsided grin, its assurance of mischief, filling Sam’s face with even more beauty.
“How’re you feeling?” the Cerc rose from his desk.
“Eh. Eight out of ten.” Sam stopped in front of his desk. “At least I’m not Thal’Kag.”
“Too soon,” Habraum frowned at her. “The other Brigadiers?”
Sam shrugged. “Frazzled, but working through it. Honaa went straight to his quarters. Won’t see anyone. Khrome didn’t look much better when I passed him.”
“I’ll deal with Honaa later. He just needs a spot of space.” Habraum stared at the ground. Guilt over how he had treated of Khrome weighed heavy on his mind.
“I’ll talk to Khrome.” She studied him as her features sobered. “I have news. Alorum’s blockaded up the ass. Hammerjacks and UComm battlecruisers everywhere, even the Amalgam’s staying put. They’re combing over the Protectorate with every sensor sweep in existence.” Habraum didn’t miss how listless her voice sounded as she spoke. “And, they found something in what’s left of that poor betelydra.”
Habraum didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”
“Some neuro control transmitter. It responds to Korvenite telepathic signals.”
Habraum rubbed his chin, disgusted. “Using an animal for their dirty work?”
Sam glowered. “Maelstrom was trying to be subtle.”
“Nanotech is subtle, not a betelydra,” the Cerc made a face. “But what is Maelstrom’s endgame? If the Trade Merger’s involved…” He let his question trail off and began pacing.
“Pulling a stunt with the Kedri in attendance? Maelstrom’s xenocidal, not suicidal. Then again, who knows with the KIF?” Sam ran both hands through her blonde tresses. “Whatever, I’ll find out anything else I can,” she glanced at the floor and her voice shrank a bit. “And I’m still going through the footage Marguliese got us.” Her unease and fatigue became more apparent.
“Something offbeam?” Habraum watched her.
Sam hugged herself, even though her powers prevented her from ever feeling cold. “Can’t help but think about those Korvenites.” She hadn’t given him more than a glance since entering his office. “I mean, Maelstrom walked into a UComm Protectorate and took them all without setting off any alarms?”
The Cerc frowned. “As much as I hate to say this Sam, at least with Maelstrom they won’t be treated like dogs.” Images of Alorum’s Light joined the swarm in his mind. Habraum fought down a shudder.
“Not the point. He’ll turn them into little toy soldiers for his war against the Union.” Sam shook her head. “Which won’t garner any sympathy for the Korvenites still in internment camps.”
Habraum couldn’t respond much to that. His eyes finally met Sam’s. It was just a lingering glance…until it wasn’t. In her big brown eyes, he saw their teammates’ corpses around them on Beridaas. He saw CT-1 felled by Maelstrom’s power on Alorum’s Light, and the longing gaze he’d shared with Sam when death seemed imminent. Pain spasmed through Habraum, and suddenly his eyes were watery.
Sam went pale. She finally marshaled the strength to turn away from his penetrating gaze, looking dazed and woozy from the effort.
Habraum didn’t recall rounding his desk, only crossing the room in a few strides and reaching for her. Sam wrapped her arms around Habraum’s waist and held on for dear life. The desperation in her embrace, the smell of firespice in her hair, the balmy warmth of her body flooded Habraum’s empty places in ways only Jennica used to, and he smiled. Upon first meeting Sam, she had come across to Habraum as a daunting scatter of mismatched puzzle pieces with no clear picture. But after years of connecting the outer edges and then gradually working his way toward the still-elusive center, a frown or a glance or a subtle shiver gave him complete awareness of her inner workings. Due to this enduring familiarity, only with Habraum would Samantha reveal the fears and wounds she hid from everyone else.
“Glad you’re not dead,” she said, her husky voice muffled against his chest.
“Same on this side,” he pulled her closer. “Still eight out of ten?”
Sam made a contented noise. “Maybe,” she ventured after a time. “You?”
Habraum snorted, “Not by half.” Everything felt too raw for falsehoods.
“Me neither,” Sam laughed.
Habraum would’ve loved to linger this way, except for a suspicion that had gnawed at him since he’d agreed to come back weeks ago. After today’s insanity, he could no longer push it away. “I know I’m a bit thick at times,” he whispered in her ear, “but I don’t care for being manipulated.”
Sam stiffened in his embrace, confirming those misgivings. Habraum realized then that Greystone appearing at the Medcenter after the Corowood Zoo attacks hadn’t been self-prompted. Sam must have anonymously tipped him off, knowing his inherent awfulness would goad Habraum into returning to Star Brigade. The Cerc wasn’t angry, just disappointed. He thought Sam had moved past such manipulations with him. “Why use Greystone to get to me?”
She pulled away enough so they were eye-to-eye, yet still intertwined. “Things had gotten so bad.” Her shrug was as admitting as it was unapologetic. “Wasn’t sure you’d come back if I asked.” Her whispered voice was so passionate, Habraum couldn’t help but ache at her words. “I needed you back…and I don’t need anyone.” Sam sighed, “…even if your stay wasn’t permanent,” she added with a look that all but said, I know about your exit strategy.
Habraum gaped down at her. “How—?” The Cerc didn’t bother finishing the question. Knowing Sam, she had probably sensed his reticence from the start and drawn her own conclusions. But he’d changed his mind…because I can’t leave her. “I’m not going anywhere,” Habraum cupped Sam’s face in his hands and rested his forehead on hers. “I’m not done with Star Brigade or you yet, goldilocks.”
Sam laughed her big loud laugh. “Got that right, flyboy,” she slipped from his grasp and teasingly slugged him in the arm. “I’m gonna go…find Khrome.” She made for the door, and for the first time in memory Habraum didn’t feel guilty noticing the way her hips moved as she walked.
The door closed, and he turned toward the Zeid skies filling his viewport. Rhyne splashed its fiery signature across the gas giant’s emerald billows. Habraum zoned out on the wondrous sight for what felt like an eternity, until habit made him check his wrist chronometer. Early afternoon. Had time flown that fast? He realized what time it almost was, and a shock went through him…the good kind this time.
Fifteen macroms later, the Cerc arrived at one of Hollus’s launch bay and waited. Usually an escort took the children of UComm officers living on Hollus Maddrone to the starbase’s daycare center. A few moments after Habraum’s arrival, the Terra Sollus transport docked in the launch bay and a
stream of yammering children poured out of the ship’s exit hatch.
Habraum stood on the tips of his toes, despite not needing to, waiting and watching, heart in his throat. After some taller adolescents walked out of the ship, Habraum saw him. He looked small and cute with the hefty school satchel slung on his back. The boy walked with some friends, chatting up a storm. Seeing that curly shock of hair, those inquisitive hazel-grey eyes and Habraum felt true joy.
“Jeremy!” the Cerc called out and strode closer.
The boy stopped, stared in the direction of the voice and a huge smile filled his face. “DADDY!” Jeremy tore past his peers, past the security escort, as fast as his little legs could take him.
Habraum knelt to one knee with arms spread wide and gathered up his son in a big hug. He rose to his feet, picking Jeremy up with him. The child squealed with joy. Nothing else mattered right now, not Star Brigade, not Maelstrom with his Korvenites, not even Union Command and their collective stupidity. Only his son, the sight of him, the sound of his voice. The mini reunion drew stares and smiles.
Jeremy pulled back and grinned even more at his father. “You picked me up!” Then he furrowed his brow in confusion. “You never pick me up.”
“I wanted to surprise you today.” Habraum tussled with Jeremy’s curly black locks. “Did I?”
Jeremy nodded vigorously. The Cerc placed Jeremy back down. “Good, cause we’re spending the rest of the day together.” Being the Brigadier Executive Officer afforded Habraum such freedoms.
The boy lit up again. “Ultraluminal!”
“Ultraluminal?” Habraum frowned uncomprehendingly.
“It means something’s cool, Daddy,” Jeremy replied, as if Habraum should already know this.
“Oh, okay,” Habraum chuckled in overstated mortification. He took Jeremy’s tiny hand in his own and they walked toward the launch bay exit. “Your day. Howzabeen?”
Jeremy shrugged. “Fine. We talked about our field trip.”
“Tell me all about it,” Habraum asked, eager to hear of his son’s adventures. The two Nwosus walked out of the launch bay, Jeremy talking fast and Habraum simply listening.
