by James Aspen
Pretty much. Do the work on your own, I can make you better at it or help you remember. You’d already be encoding it in your brain after all, I’d only be reinforcing what’s already happening. But take the easy way and directly download information too often, then you don’t give your brain time to integrate the new pathways and… Zyp filled his head with the sound of an explosion.
“Got it. I’ll go get familiar with the ship and leave you to it then.” He stood up and yawned. “Or I’ll get some rest.”
Great. I’ll engage your Heads Up Display so you won’t have to ask me what everything is.
“Thanks.” He started to turn from the viewport to explore his new home, but the moon captured his attention. Paul watched the moon passing above the ship. There was plenty of time to learn on the trip to the Gate, but for right now he wanted to allow himself a moment of awe.
He was in space.
He was in space, on a ship he was learning how to fly.
Paul smiled and flicked a switch on the console to turn off the gravity coils, and exhilaration prickled his skin as he floated into the empty air. Yes, the world was in danger, but he had to experience zero gravity for the first time. Afterwards, he’d explore the ship and go through some flight maneuvers to get a better feel for the controls.
At that moment, floating alone in the cabin of a spaceship was enough. He drifted until his head pressed against the clear viewport. As far as he could see, the vast expanse of stars stretched out before him.
It was more freeing than he’d imagined in his wildest fantasies. He let himself savor it, if only for the moment.
CHAPTER TEN
CAPTAIN ULEC NUMOH stood quietly on the bridge of the Gryx cruiser Wildfire, his thin arms clasped behind him, his uniform crisp and clean. His large black eyes reflected the glow of readouts scrolling across the tactical display hovering at his station, his face impassive. The flashing lights of the scrolling reports cast a dull glow over his pale gray skin. He was tall for a Gryx at just under two meters, and used it to his advantage, looming over his subordinates. Despite his age, he still received the respect demanded by his station. He didn’t care if it came from his reputation or his stature, as long as it was there.
Around the bridge, techs and officers bustled at their stations, all Gryx except for pairs of Varanul stationed as guards beside his station and the bridge entrance. These sentinels were unnecessary in this backwater system, but Numoh prided himself on how tightly he ran his ship. He might command an operation in a backwater system, but he would treat it with the respect of a seasoned captain, if only to stay in practice for his inevitable return to civilization. When The Syndicate took their rightful place at the top, they would reward the Gryx with positions at all levels. His species had been The Syndicate’s longest supporters, from when the grand plan had been whispered in the shadows of corporate boardrooms and smuggler cartels decades ago.
As Captain of a warship at its lowest alert level and a stable orbit, had little work on the bridge, but he always showed up on time for his rotation. Long ago, results of his analysis concluded his crew ran 9.2% more efficient by his mere presence, and was reason enough for him to maintain his schedule. Like all Gryx, he prided himself on margins of efficiency. This was part of what led him to leave the Federation, along with most of his species. The plans of the Syndicate were far superior to the Federation, with its sprawling bureaucracy, blockages to free trade, and elevation of the weakest species among them. Numoh’s face flickered with a sneer at the thought. The Federation was lunacy at its finest. The Federation had to fall, and Ulec Numoh was more than happy to help push it further over the edge.
The time of reckoning was nearly upon the Federation. Final targeting of key exploitable assets were already staged throughout the border regions, and the Syndicate had been infiltrating key positions of power for decades. Only a few more standard rotations and the time for attack would come. His lipless mouth slits curled into a smile at the thought. After all this time, the Syndicate would finally emerge from the shadows and claim its rightful place in the galaxy. The cracks in the grand pillars of the Federation would break, and under the Overseer’s guidance the Syndicate will remove the waste from the galaxy.
And Captain Numoh could finally return to the core worlds as a hero of a new regime.
The bridge doors slid open and a tall Varanul walked purposely onto the bridge, directly towards Numoh’s station. He recognized it instantly as Lieutenant Thrak, the troop commander for the battalion of Varanul stationed on the Wildfire. The Varanul was larger than most, and covered with deep gouges in his slate gray scales, including a deep scar running across his face. His scars and stature made Thrak an even more effective commander for the troops. The Varanul might be programmed to respect their creators, but the creatures truly worshipped those among them that had the tenacity to survive the battlefield.
He strode up to Numoh, saluted roughly, and gave a barely acceptable bow. Numoh ignored the near-insult. The Varanul were useful warriors, but he’d long since given up on teaching them proper decorum. He met the beast’s center pair of eyes with just enough disdain to remind the Varanul who was in control.
“Lieutenant Thrak, do you have something to report?”
“Captain Numoh, we have the leader of the Resistance operatives in our custody,” Lieutenant Thrak said in its harsh language.
“Excellent news, Lieutenant.”
Emotions were hard to read on the faces of the Varanul, but Numoh caught a subtle shift in the Lieutenant’s demeanor.
“There is more to add?” he asked.
“Yes sir. Unfortunately, the resistance commander proved harder to capture than expected. Our units were forced into open engagement before she went to ground.”
Numoh stared at the Varanul. “Were there any witnesses?”
Thrak bowed in acknowledgement. Numoh saw a flicker of shame in the creature’s red eyes.
“Sloppy, Thrak. Very sloppy.” Numoh considered the implications. That settlement was among the smallest of their targets, a target of opportunity, really. A small mining operation interest only. The mess should be easy to contain, but if the primitives don’t buy the coverup…. Well, he may have to accelerate the attack and add a new target to the list. He looked back to Thrak. “Were proper cleanup protocols followed?”
“Yes, sir. All bodies were recovered without further problem, and I informed the human ambassador of the incident immediately.”
The ambassador would work hard to convince the populace the entire ordeal was an unauthorized recording event by an entertainment conglomerate. A fictitious spectacle, and not an invasion. The shell corporations would claim responsibility and the entire event would be swept away. It could have been worse. He studied the Varanul again. Something else was wrong.
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
“We were unable to capture their ship. We used it to bait their commander as you instructed, but apparently the Resistance recruited a human. The human managed to launch the transport while the commander was engaging our forces.”
“Why did you not destroy it, as Contingency Protocol 7.3 demanded?” Numoh had lost control of his speech pattern, despite himself.
The Varanul flinched at Numoh’s sudden display of emotion. “The ship launched and cloaked under cloud cover before our starfighters could engage. They could not track the ship’s trajectory.”
Numoh stared at the Varanul, and fury overtook him. “Are you telling me the resistance ship is en route to whatever hole their fleet hides in at this very moment?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“That is… most unfortunate.” Numoh stared at the screen, thinking. The ends of his long fingers pressed together. This situation was quickly becoming chaotic. He had to regain control immediately, before it got worse.
“My apologies, Captain.” The Varanul bowed its head, its taloned hands showing the proper gestures of subservience for the first time.
Numoh bris
tled at the sudden proper decorum. So the Lieutenant was always capable of propriety and chose not to. The thought only made the Captain more angry. He channeled that anger into a series of barked orders.
“Dispatch Alpha Squadron to search for the transport. Divide the squadron into four flight groups and search the probable routes to the Gate. Scan for drive signatures and residual heat. If they use thrusters to burn fast for the Gate, scanners will pick up something we can use to track them.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Bring the captive to the Wildfire’s interrogation room immediately. I must find out what they know.”
“Anything else, Captain?”
“Launch all bombers of Beta Squadron. We are ahead of the Council’s timetable, but the time to strike is now.”
“But the council…”
Numoh raised a dismissive hand to interrupt the Lieutenant’s objections.
“Has given me final authorization for the order at my discretion in an emergency. If this transport evades us, we must already control this system when their fleet arrives. Execute attack order Delta-7. You have my orders, Lieutenant.”
The Varanul paused and cocked its head. Numoh never had read the reptilian creature’s facial expressions perfectly, but he decided Lt. Thrak was hesitant to attack the planet without the full invasion fleet.
“It will be done, Captain.” Lieutenant Thrak bowed his head and lurched toward his station to belay the orders.
Despite himself, Numoh allowed excitement to take hold as he looked at the tactical screen of the Terran System. Soon, he would watch the military bases of the pathetic primitives burn under their own creations. Ambassador McDowell would send the appropriate plea for aid to bypass the Federation’s no contact protocols, and The Syndicate would have another system under their control. Numoh would be richer for it, but more importantly, he would be freed from the monotony of backwater worlds and take a step back towards the civilized glow of the core.
Numoh turned to Commander Keul, his second in command. “The bridge is yours. I will be in my quarters awaiting news from the Ambassador.”
***
Captain Numoh watched the figures running across the screen and scowled, the lipless slits of his mouth pressed tightly together. The image of the resistance operative and a human running through crowded streets and the chaotic scene of bystanders filled the tactical display on his desk. His anger surged.
The Varanul had been extra sloppy in their pursuit this time.
Things had been going so well. Now, on the eve of the greatest coordinated effort his species had ever attempted, he had been given this mess to clean up.
He leaned back in his chair. The human ambassador wouldn’t be pleased. The chime of an incoming transmission sounded, and Numoh groaned. He’d hoped that he would have more time to come up with an appropriate response before dealing with the human. He accepted the transmission and an elderly human face projected above the desk.
“Captain Numoh, what is the meaning of this?!”
Numoh met the holographic figure with all the calm the Gryx were famous for, not that the creature on his screen would recognize him for it. This human filled him with disdain more than others of their despicable species, which made it hard for Numoh to maintain his composure. Numoh hadn’t decided if his reaction was because of the way the creature’s flesh sagged off of its face in sickening jowls that resembled a lowly amphibious creature, or how this one had clung to power long after its mind and physical prowess should have allowed it to hold positions of power in any decent society. Most likely it was due to how easily it had been to convince the groveling weasel of a “leader” sell out its own people for the promise of preferential treatment and wealth for its petty faction members. As useful as collaborators were, Captain Numoh held any being in contempt for being manipulated to aid in the subjugation of their own worlds so easily.
“Ah, Senator McDowell. I was expecting you.” Numoh kept his voice cool. In the back of his mind he reminded himself how humans were easily manipulated, as long as he kept his emotions properly in check. They were a prideful bunch and lashed out when insulted.
“Do you realize the mess your operatives left in Franklin? I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover it up this time. A dozen different videos have surfaced online and we’re having a hard time containing them. We might have a full blown crisis on our hands!” McDowell was flustered. His voice abnormally strained, his double chin flapped in the wind, horrendous and undignified.
“I am aware of the situation, and I apologize. Unfortunately, the incident could not be avoided.” Numoh fought back the urge to hurl thinly veiled insults at the weak thing.
“Is there a problem I need to be aware of?”
“No, we apprehended the saboteurs before they could jeopardize the Franklin mining operation. The incident was unfortunate, but we had to pursue these operatives to protect our interests. However, we will need to push up our time table, just to be safe.”
Numoh allowed himself the pleasure of a smile when he saw the color drain from the horrid creature’s face.
“It is time? But… no, we are not ready,” McDowell whispered.
You mean the hole you’re going to hide in isn’t full of fineries yet, you mean, Numoh thought with a glimmer of disgust sneaking past his diplomatic veneer.
“You’re ready when I say you are ready. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
The human shifted uncomfortably.
“Of course. I will start the preparations,” McDowell muttered.
“See that you do. And remember our accord, your people disarm and work our mines, and we let them survive. Any resistance and they will join the rest of the world in annihilation.”
McDowell gulped and nodded. “Our leadership knows their role. We can keep our people in line.”
“I sincerely hope so.” Numoh paused and focused his gaze on the pathetic creature. “I do not enjoy eliminating potentially valuable resources and workers needlessly. But I will not hesitate to wipe out your species if I must. Keep the transition free of rebellion, fulfill your contract, and everyone profits. Are we clear?”
“I understand. Thank you, Captain; we are ready to serve The Syndicate. God Bless you.”
“We are your gods now, Senator. You’ll do well to remember that.”
The creature bristled at the comment but kept its jowls still. Numoh held its gaze, relishing in the way the creature’s skin grew ashen the longer it had to meet his eyes. The way its quiet defiance crumbled under his stare. He waited until it looked like the creature might crack before he released the creature with a dismissive hand wave.
“Go. Make your preparations. The attack plan will be tight beamed to your communicator within the rotation.”
Numoh cut the communication.
Numoh was relieved to not have to look at the creature’s face anymore when the hologram faded from his desk. He couldn’t wait to get away from this backwater system. It had been a long time coming, and he was ready to seize his reward for leaving the Federation. The Council had promised him a post to a central planet if he completed his job in the Terran System without incident. He looked forward to being back in a real civilization again and not languishing away among primitives. He’d watched them for years, even walked among them with in disguise and sampled their “culture” that the Federation’s council was so hell-bent on protecting.
Some planets he had watched over in his decades of service had made him question his loyalty. Peaceful beings with a sense of wonder and curiosity that had tugged at his heart when he had given the order to send them to the mines. Without the council’s righteous goal, a desire to bring order, wealth, and stability to the peoples of the Federation, he might not have been able to give the order.
It helped that the council paid him well, especially for these backwater posts no one wanted.
Yes, McDowell will do his job, and I will be moved up to a more important role soon enough, he thought, allowi
ng himself to enjoy the anticipation of victory.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A SHARP, FAMILIAR ding rang in Paul’s head, and he flinched. The bright chiming bell tone sounded like an oven timer going off. His HUD flashed with a message: [INITIAL SCAN COMPLETE].
“What was that?!” he asked.
I finished my scan! I liked that tone in your memory, so I thought I’d use it for notifications! Zyp was entirely too excited.
“Wonderful. What now?” Paul grumbled. He pushed off the bulkhead and drifted down to the deck with ease. The pull of gravity returned with the flick of a switch on the console.
His HUD flashed: [SET UP VOICE START COMMAND].
Speak whatever command you want used to start my voice interface.
“Zyp,” Paul said, not feeling particularly creative.
Very original.
[START COMMAND SAVED. SET UP VOICE SLEEP COMMAND].
Now speak a voice shut-off command.
“Get Bent, Zyp.”
Oh, nice. I like that.
[SLEEP COMMAND SAVED. VOICE COMMAND SET UP COMPLETE].
“I meant it as an insult.”
I know, glad you have some spunk in you, kid. Now, from here on out you can speak or think commands and I will respond either way.
“Do you already know what I’m going to say?”
No, but I give a 97% probability you will mostly choose to speak commands out loud unless necessary because you think it will be less awkward.
Display status, Paul thought, crossing his arms. Zyp was right, and Paul was petulant enough about it to be stubborn.
Very good, I didn’t even have to tell you how to do that. Must be all those games you’ve played.
Paul’s HUD filled with various measurements of his body systems, health, stamina, injuries, and physiological systems. Beneath it was a daunting list of skills measurements. Some were familiar like ‘stealth’ and ‘mechanics,’ but others were indecipherable like ‘astrogation.’ All together they made his head spin, and he closed the status display with a tap of a button on his Ambra.
