Outriders

by Ian Blackport

  “Copy that. We’re inbound and readying magnetic clamps for transport. See you in orbit.”

  She strode closer across the crevasse floor and found an empty nook beneath the sheer wall, its foundation riven with cracks and caked in loose dirt. Clara knelt in this quiet, hidden place and retrieved a modest plaque from an equipment pouch on her flight suit. Eleven names were chiseled onto the smooth surface, each one representing a life tragically cut short. It was unlikely another person would ever set foot in this canyon again, leaving the inscription to remain unseen for eternity. Just one more hint of humanity’s presence lost among countless stars.

  Yet that was the entire point. Clara wanted this to be solemn and without ceremony. A private memorial for her chosen family, one no government official or media personality would sully and publicize. This moon was to be an honored and respected tomb to the fallen so long as Clara was alive and fighting for their memory. The courageous pilots of Corsair Squadron would never be lifted as a prop for some self-aggrandizing politician, nor would their sacrifice be used by Starfighter Command for propaganda or recruitment purposes.

  This was to be hers alone. Clara placed the plaque within a slit in the rock, shared several silent thoughts and climbed upright to spare one final glance at the simplistic monument to a band of heroes she would never forget.

  “Be safe, friends,” she whispered. “Wherever you might be.”

  She turned away and activated a control panel on the arm of her suit. “Flight Lieutenant Clara Aylett, authentication code Corsair-L570B31-49106. Unseal starfighter hatch, bring power online and deactivate safeguards.”

  Clara waited as the Marauder initialized its systems and life returned to her abandoned starfighter. Beyond the sentimentality of recovering the damaged ship, Clara still had an ally and friend to awaken. She walked over misshapen rock mounds, ran one hand along the scarred hull and spoke the arranged code-phrase to end a comrade’s long hibernation.

  “Good to see you again, Chirpy.”

  *

  Taylor stood on the lowered boarding ramp of his beloved Solar Flare, staring out at the hectic, congested hangar facility in Elatha’s capital city Formorii. Though scarcely more than a month had passed, it seemed like a lifetime ago when he last landed here. A hellish bombardment rained down from the atmosphere on that day, reducing structures to fiery cinders, slaughtering innocents trapped above ground and terrifying the entire populace.

  The dawning sun on Elatha today was a beautiful, alluring sight. This planet’s ordeal had ended, leaving its shaken though resilient inhabitants to mourn the fallen, rebuild ruined cities and continue their lives. Even now Taylor could glimpse repair drones and construction cranes above the spaceport, their crews commencing the long, arduous task of restoring recent damage.

  Early morning sunlight glittered through skyscrapers defiantly rising to touch the clouds. Elatha would survive this brief yet ferocious war; so too would Delbaeth and all territories stretching throughout nearby systems that suffered.

  Taylor heard boots clanking on metal deck plates and was soon joined by Harun at the threshold. The operative had a single duffel bag slung over his shoulder and halted bare meters from where the boarding ramp touched concrete. He stared beyond his feet for several moments, content to breathe the air of his homeworld in silence.

  “When I stepped onto your freighter and left Elatha,” Harun said, “I swore not to return until my mission was complete. Failure meant never seeing my home or loved ones again. I knew the stakes and accepted their terms willingly.”

  “Didn’t believe you were the kind of person who had loved ones waiting for you.”

  “We all have attachments. I’m a better person thanks to mine. It was for their future I fought, so they could grow up not knowing fear.”

  “Curious you never mentioned a family,” Taylor remarked.

  “I might love them dearly, but that doesn’t mean focusing on their memory isn’t a distraction. To stay focused, I needed to remain detached. Nothing hurt me more during our time together than being unable to think about my family.”

  “Least now you get to come home and see them again. They’ll be proud, I’d reckon.”

  “I like to hope you’re right.” Harun gazed into the mess of starships crowding the hangar, his expression somber and distant. “We haven’t talked about this since Kanaloa, but I’m sorry about your man. Rosenbaum was a fine pilot.”

  “He’ll be dearly missed,” Taylor replied. “Though I didn’t expect to ever say this, I’m sorry about Tessa. She was…honestly not my favorite person. But she was damn brave and loyal to her superiors and home planet. One hell of a strong soldier to boot. She died helping to end a war and save lives. Doesn’t get more heroic than that. Tessa accepted her role and did what was demanded of her. And that’s a noble thing. I hope you’ll see fit she earns a commendation or has her name added to a memorial wall. Whatever your people do to celebrate its war heroes.”

  “Her name will be remembered. Not as a soldier or exalted figure, but as a person who chose to make an extraordinary sacrifice. She’ll live on through all those who knew her and were inspired by her example.”

  Taylor allowed the strangely companionable quiet between them to stretch, uncertain whether this was a bond he should feel thankful for or dismiss. He spent so long distrusting and resenting Harun that he was at a loss for how to react now. “Never did enjoy having you onboard, but you’re a credit to spyfolk everywhere.”

  “Save your accolades for after the spaceport technicians remove my explosive device from your ship.”

  Taylor uttered a guttural snarl and balled his fists, reminded why he disliked the intrusive operative in the first place. “You miserable asshole. I ought to shoot you where you stand. There really was a damn bomb strapped to my hull the whole time?”

  “I don’t believe in half-measures, Captain. I thought you’d learned that about me by now.”

  “And you’d have detonated it?”

  “Don’t know. The onus was on you, though I presumed the threat was enough. I can promise I’d have suffered conflicted feelings if I needed to trigger the device. Still, I’m pleased you didn’t force my hand.”

  “You’re moments away from forcing mine.”

  “An ideal time for me to set foot on Elathan soil again.” Harun paced to the thin band of emergency coloring that represented the boarding ramp’s edge, his toes only inches from touching the planet, and glanced back at Taylor. “There are many in my agency and government who know about your role in ending the war. Those who seek to discredit you will find staunch opposition from me. Regardless of where you choose to travel and what choices you make in the future, you and your crew will always find a welcoming home here. Be well, Captain.”

  Harun strode off the freighter and crossed the facility between parked shuttles and freighters. Taylor watched him disappear beyond a modest transport, half-expecting an awful fate to befall the Solar Flare. Shadowy government agencies were not known for their forbearance or generosity, leaving Taylor to worry the heavy end of a hammer was still poised above their heads. Yet nothing fell. No agents attempted to arrest him, no officials embargoed their freighter, no veiled threats accompanied Harun’s departure. Maybe that was the grandest surprise of all.

  “Self-righteous prick,” Taylor mumbled. “Though honest in the end. Guess that counts for something.”

  He closed the boarding ramp and climbed stairs leading above the cargo hold to their lounge, where he found the crew minus Kyla. A muted atmosphere still lingered two weeks after losing their friend and comrade, though life was beginning to return at a gradual pace. Smiles and half-hearted laughter replaced tears and solemnity in certain moments, little signs these survivors would find joy and hope once again given time.

  Alexis and Rinko sat together at one chair watching a broadcast projected over the nearest table. Evan perched on a neighboring seat with a mug of tea cradled in both hands while Reyes sat alone on the room’s
far side, evidently lost in thought and paying little attention to the transmission.

  The holographic display featured a reporter delivering news from the Parliament Spire on Jiaolong; Adeleh Farahani of Prudentia Media Group was listed beneath. “Sima Jiaying, a senior member of the governing Interplanetary Liberation Front party and current Minister for Trade and Development, has officially announced her candidacy for the position of chancellor. Buoyed by her decisive role in ending the Tuathan War and dismantling corruption in the Ascendant Starfleet, along with helping to uncover evidence that Triaxus Corporation committed criminal acts in both matters, many political pundits believe Ms. Sima is the clear frontrunner for the highest office in Confederacy space. Asked to expand on her hopes and ambitions, Ms. Sima had this to say…”

  Adeleh faded as the screen shifted to show Sima Jiaying answering questions with the media. “I’m humbled by the outpouring of support and encouragement I’ve received since declaring my candidacy. Such a reaction demonstrates beyond doubt how many citizens are weary of the corruption and dishonesty prevalent in politics. Apathy among voters is commonplace, with many believing no candidate stands above the others. I promise to represent a new voice, one that will champion transparency and rebuild the faith our democracy once enjoyed. The time of bitter struggles and conflict is over. A brighter future is possible for our party, our government and our civilization.”

  Rinko muted the broadcast when the image transitioned back to Adeleh Farahani. “Good for her.”

  “Nice to see an honest politician for once,” Evan affirmed.

  “Especially with all those scandals that’ve come to light recently,” added Alexis. “Elected politicians giving preferential treatment to their constituents and family members.”

  “Or using contracts to enrich themselves. Disgraceful stuff happening these days.”

  Taylor rubbed his aching neck with one hand and stood alongside the now silent table. His eyes drifted toward the newest addition in their lounge, a pricey painting purloined from Winston Vanderlin’s penthouse suite. “How’re the repairs coming along, Evan?”

  “Elathan engineers know their business. We’ll be at peak performance for the first time in nearly a year by the time they finish scampering across our hull.”

  “I still can’t believe they aren’t charging for the privilege either,” Alexis said.

  Taylor scoffed at her comment. “Least they could do after what we accomplished for them. Actual payment would’ve been nicer.”

  “We’re criminals, Captain,” declared Rinko. “Elathan brass needs to have some scruples.”

  “Good enough to recruit and coerce, but not enough to pay for our services. Seems a might contradictory.” Taylor left his crew to their subdued gathering but stopped for a moment. “Kyla?”

  Evan gestured in a vague direction with his finger. “Bridge.”

  “As you were.”

  Taylor crossed to the corridor and followed its straight path beyond crew quarters to a flight of stairs ascending to their bridge. He found Kyla sitting in the pilot’s chair, her brow knotted and fingers practicing manoeuvers with inactive consoles.

  “You have all the proper qualifications and experience,” he remarked. “Hell, you flew us here, didn’t you? I don’t imagine you need to keep brushing up on your skills.”

  She refrained from glancing sideward at him and continued rehearsing for threats and scenarios she might never face. “Can’t hurt. I don’t have Connor’s natural affinity or reckless instinct. I can only go by knowledge alone.”

  “You’re overqualified in that department.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’ll ever feel comfortable taking his place.”

  “No one expects you to. We honor him as best we can and continue flying. Connor wouldn’t want you living in his shadow. He’d want you staying strong, finding your own rhythm and taking care of the ship he loved.”

  “One more reason why he’ll be missed.” Kyla chewed on her lip and fidgeted in the chair, propping one elbow on the armrest. “I can’t believe I’m mourning that sarcastic ass.”

  “He’d laugh at the revelation. A final practical joke done in his name.”

  Taylor stared through the viewport at a blue sky bustling with ship traffic, though his reverie was disturbed when a blinking signal appeared on one sensor screen, accompanied by a soft chime and scrolling information.

  Kyla eyed the light with a curious expression. “Huh.”

  “Care to explain for the bemused captain?”

  “Incoming transmission rerouted to us directly through an outlying communication relay, which bypassed all local Elathan networks and services. More private, but also trickier to pinpoint our location and reliably reach us.”

  “Asking for us by name?”

  “Crew of the Solar Flare.” A concerned look crossed her face as she eyed Taylor. “Not many know where we are.”

  “Consider my interest piqued. Accept and open the broadcast. Might as well oblige whoever went to the trouble of finding us.”

  “I see your paranoia and security concerns have slipped.”

  “We’re parked in the middle of Formorii with a couple dozen warships still floating overhead, with us the heroes of the hour. This is the closest to safety we’re likely to experience.”

  Kyla brought the terminal online and touched a sequence of buttons with only a little more hesitation than Alexis. One screen flashed to life, revealing a poised woman in military uniform. She appeared young, though radiated confidence beneath a snug peak cap.

  Her eyes flicked between Kyla and Taylor. “Greetings. Am I speaking with the captain of the Stingray-class freighter Solar Flare?”

  “Captain Taylor MacDowell.” He tapped a finger against his chest. “That’d be me.”

  “A pleasure. My name is Commodore Genevieve Letourneau of the Confederacy Ascendant Starfleet aboard the Zenith-class battlecruiser Hippolyta.”

  “Commodore? Never knew I warranted the big guns. Or any guns that weren’t trying to kill me.”

  “This situation is nothing if not unusual for everyone involved. You’re a difficult man to find.”

  “By design. Not that your communication isn’t flattering, but why the call?”

  “For your role in concluding the Tuathan War. We wished to personally thank you for playing an integral part.”

  “Off the record I’d imagine?”

  Genevieve’s stoic mask slipped as her lip tugged upward into a subtle grin. “The Ascendant Starfleet doesn’t communicate with pirates or smugglers, even the beneficial kind.”

  Kyla snorted in disdain, though Taylor ignored her. “To be fair, we don’t make a habit of chatting with oppressive naval staff either.”

  “Then this will be uncharted territory for us both.”

  Taylor claimed a chair and leaned backward, propping his boots on a console. “You have my attention. Feel free to speak your piece.”

  “Fleets were marshalling and preparing for war before we received your broadcast from Kanaloa. You helped avert a horrible, senseless mistake. Your crew deserves our heartfelt thanks. We’re in your debt.”

  “Just not enough to acknowledge the praise publicly.”

  “My hands are tied, Captain.” Genevieve unclasped her hands to shrug. “I’m not even supposed to be making this broadcast.”

  “Doesn’t a fancy commodore have plenty of leeway to do whatever she pleases?”

  “The only reason I’m able to contact you at all, as it happens. Though I have a feeling you won’t be disillusioned at the lack of public recognition, since I have a more fitting compensation in mind for your actions.”

  “Oh? My ears have perked.”

  “Full pardons for your entire crew. Despite the fact someone on your freighter, a technical savant from what I’ve been told, did an admiral job of covering your involvement and hiding identities, enough evidence remained for Naval Intelligence to track your movements from Balor to the Heliades. You’re responsible for consi
derable damage on Milesian Station and in Alishan. Destruction to property, both public and private, tampering with security protocols, assaulting personnel, et cetera. Not to mention the acts committed on Kanaloa. Several soldiers are still recuperating in medical facilities from being repeatedly stuck with incapacitating rounds. They face a traumatic recovery and may require organ replacements to be grown, but they’ll survive.”

  “Knowing all we did, you’re still keen on absolving our records?”

  “As I said, the situation is unusual.”

  “And how does the army feel about us receiving pardons? Their troops are the ones we shot.”

  “They aren’t aware. Only the navy has jurisdiction in each theater of operations you traveled to. We’ve ensured your participation remains unknown.”

  “Awful generous of you to provide all this for us.”

  “The only reason I can is because you caused no deaths. Whatever the reason for your restraint, be it morality or expedience, I’m thankful you chose mercy.”

  “We almost didn’t, since your side showed no restraint. There’s the difference between us and you, Commodore. We don’t view your lives as cheap.”

  The response staggered Genevieve for a brief moment, though she recovered her unwavering visage. “Yes, well, had you murdered security on Milesian Station or trainee soldiers in Tangaroa, nothing would have saved you from facing the full force of the Ascendant Starfleet. Instead, your records are now clean. Including all previous arrest warrants for you and your crew in Confederacy space. I’d recommend taking this opportunity to rehabilitate your image. The pardon is only for any past crimes, rather than future ones.”

  “I’m clever enough not to incriminate myself, so I won’t acknowledge your suggestion.”

  “The admission is hardly surprising. A career change didn’t seem in the cards for a person of your reputation.”

  “Someone has to make a dishonest living. Though I have my eye on a couple options. Maybe I should get into the mining industry. I hear they’re willing to hire anyone and even overlook sociopathic tendencies in promising candidates.”