by J G Cressey
Lawrence considered that for a moment, the mild hum of the descending platform the only noise. “Well, we’ll just have to try our best to ensure that it doesn’t come to that. As far as the communications are concerned, we have a couple of teams who are close to a patch up method. Something that might achieve enough range to set up some sort of relay between planets. And, all going well, maybe eventually between systems.”
“Sounds promising. How close are they?”
Decker frowned. “You know how these tech teams are. Close is as near to a timeframe as we’re likely to get.”
After descending through a truly remarkable amount of rock, the platform eventually broke through into a brightly lit space that was predictably vast—almost the twin of the level above in both size and activity. The platform slowed, giving Cal the opportunity to view the scene from high above. As he scanned the myriad of people, ships, and machinery, he felt an increasing confidence that Lawrence really hadn’t been exaggerating his claims.
“In the meantime,” Lawrence continued, “our best functioning communications are those.” He pointed to a large array of dark, triangular shapes positioned in uniform rows on the ground far beneath. Judging by the people moving nearby, Cal guessed that each one was no longer than his arm.
“They look like some sort of missiles,” Cal observed, not entirely convinced that Lawrence was pointing to the correct thing.
The colonel shook his head. “Cursus ships, we’re calling them. This is just one fleet of many. They’re the fastest drone ships ever developed, basically a miniature slip-drive engine with nothing but a tiny database to haul. A simple but relatively efficient way to carry messages back and forth.”
Cal raised an eyebrow. “Now that’s a damn fine idea,” he said and continued to study the little ships until the platform sank behind a fleet of large attack crafts. “Seems the postal service has come a long way!”
“Postal service?”
Cal waved a hand. “Never mind. An historic thing.”
The sharp edges of the platform hissed slightly as it lined up flawlessly with the floor.
“This is a hell of a lot to keep a handle on, Lawrence,” Cal said as he stared across at a row of heavily armored bull tanks. Are you in charge of all this?”
“Oh lord no,” Lawrence replied quickly. “Not all of it. I’ve discovered a certain ability to inspire and perhaps even to lead, but I know my shortcomings. A series of committees have been established: men and women assigned to keep order and make decisions involving our future. I am in charge of military operations though.” Lawrence offered him a tight smile as if he still couldn’t quite get his head around the fact. “Believe it or not, I was the most experienced candidate. I’m honored to take on that role, but politics, law, medical issues, infrastructure…I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Cal decided to reserve any judgement regarding the committees. He’d never been one for politics, but he knew enough to realize that they wouldn’t get very far without some sort of structure. He just hoped it was the right structure—if such a possibility even existed. “Well, I just hope they know what the hell they’re doing.”
“I don’t agree with everything,” Lawrence said. “But they seem on the right track. Anyway, enough talk of such things. How’s about I show you around.”
Lawrence’s tour lasted a good hour, and despite feeling more and more impressed with each new revelation, Cal was now about ready for a long sit down. Maybe even a glass of Alvorian ale if such a thing was still being produced. On a number of occasions, he’d been approached by soldiers who’d paused in their work to shake his hand—lengthy, enthusiastic handshakes, which, along with much gushing praise and words of admiration, had left him feeling more than a little flustered and, if he was honest, embarrassed. It seemed that his part in the rescue on C9 had earned him quite the reputation over the months. A reputation greatly inflated by the footage of him singlehandedly taking out a gang of pirates and attacking a synthetic armed with little more than bloody minded fury. Much to his chagrin, Lawrence assured him that the footage was probably to be found on every personal entertainment link in the entire base.
“You’re not still dwelling over that footage, are you?”
Cal turned to Lawrence, a touch peeved that he was so easy to read. The two of them were standing at a railing on the other side of which was a long drop to the mid-sized hangar filled with viper ships and a few stealth-stingers. Shadow lingered close by as still and silent as ever.
“It just seems a little strange,” Cal said, “to watch something like that for entertainment.”
Lawrence chuckled, an act that didn’t greatly improve Cal’s annoyance.
“You really don’t get it?”
“Enlighten me.”
“It’s not entertainment, Cal. It’s hope. It’s fighting against insurmountable odds and stomping all over the impossible. They watch it to feel inspired, motivated, and most importantly, to bully away despair with renewed optimism.”
Cal blinked at him for a moment. “I see…well, if they get all that…well, I guess I’m glad.”
“You and me both,” Lawrence said with a grin as he slapped a hand on the railing. “You fancy a drink?”
“Christ, I thought you’d never ask!” Cal replied, pushing off the railing and giving his back a quick stretch. “I could do with a time out to absorb your grand tour. And after that, I’d appreciate it if I could look over your pirate attack reports? I know they’re long past, but even the most insignificant clues might help our search.”
Lawrence nodded and continued nodding for a suspiciously long time. The sort of prolonged nod that attempted to mask indecision. “Cal, there’s…there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh? Don’t be shy, Colonel,” Cal said. His tone was light, but the look on Lawrence’s face was starting to make him feel quite the opposite.
“Just promise me you won’t react without hearing me out first.”
Cal shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant but suspecting that his sudden tension was clear to see. “What are we, kids in a schoolyard?”
Lawrence tried to smile, but it came closer to a grimace—the sort of look a kindly boss might adopt just before firing a particularly volatile employee. “I know how desperate you are in your search to find Kaia, but…”
“I promise, I’ll keep a level head,” Cal said, not even meaning it a little bit. “Just tell me.”
Lawrence sighed, head bowed for a moment before once again looking Cal in the eye. “The pirate. The one you knocked out on The Orillian. The one who ended up in the coma—”
“She’s awake?” Cal interrupted. “Why the hell didn’t you say before?”
Lawrence opened his mouth but hesitated.
“Where is she?” Cal demanded, fully aware that his promise of remaining level-headed was already teetering on the brink.
“She came out of the coma only a few days ago.”
His fists clenched, Cal pointlessly scanned the space around him. There was, of course, little to see other than ships, workmen, and machinery. “I need to see her, Lawrence. Now.”
Lawrence raised both hands as if preparing to put out a fire. “I know what you’re thinking, Cal. But—”
“You can read minds?” Cal snapped, sharp enough to jog Shadow from his statue-like state. Cal ignored the big brute. “Well shit, Lawrence, maybe you should put that to good use and extract some information from the pirate bitch. Because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me from beating it out of her.”
Shadow took a step toward him, well and truly living up to his name as he blocked out much of the light.
“I understand how you feel,” Laurence said, doing his best to encourage the big Carcarrion away. “That woman was partly responsible for thousands of deaths. I know how tempting it is to burst in there and beat information from her. But she’s been in that coma for a long time. She’s confused…fragile.”
“Fragile!” Cal shouted
the word loud enough to startle a couple of passing workmen.
The look on Lawrence’s face caused Cal to turn away and grip the railing, forcing himself to take some deep, calming breaths. “Jesus, Lawrence, fragile?” he said after a moment. His voice was quieter but no less harsh. “This woman’s a killer…a damned pirate. She doesn’t deserve your pity or your protection.”
Lawrence’s brows creased, an expression teetering between anger and puzzlement. “That doesn’t sound like the man I know. I thought you were always quick to protect. Even those who didn’t deserve it. Hell, you even gave me a second chance after all the crap I did.” Lawrence stared at him for a moment, an intensity in his eyes. “Back on the starship, you were the most ethical man I knew. And I noticed it more acutely than others because it was precisely what I lacked.”
“I woke up to reality,” Cal replied, surprising even himself by the cold streak in his voice. “I used to play by the rules, Lawrence, but too often, it brought failure. That and a lot of dead friends. But then I don’t have to remind you of that.”
Laurence flinched—a reaction that triggered enough guilt in Cal that much of the coldness seeped out of him. He took a moment to try and calm himself and consider his words. “I’ve given chances to people like her before, Lawrence. I’ve hesitated when I should have fired. Protected when I should have shunned. I’ve dealt with pirates who demand that you empty your pockets before shooting simply to save themselves the trouble once you’re dead on the floor. I’ve given quarter to scavengers who’d sacrifice someone without a second thought even if that person was actively trying to save them. These people exist in droves, and it’s only getting worse.
“Have you been out there, Lawrence?” he asked, thrusting a finger upward. “Seen what so-called civilized space is becoming? The good are becoming bad, and the bad are becoming worse. You give people like that a chance, you give them the least bit of leeway or trust, and truly good people will continue to die.”
Lawrence’s hard look faltered, and after a few moments, he let out another long sigh. “I understand what you’re saying, Cal; I really do. I’ve already tried questioning this woman myself. And if I’m honest, her continued silence has driven me to the brink…almost pushing me to violence. But I’m lucky it didn’t. There’s more than the question of ethics involved here. Those committees I mentioned are enforcing strict rules.”
Cal shook his head. “I really couldn’t care less about committees right now.”
“Maybe not. But they care about you…and your actions. I’m afraid their word has become law…at least within this base and the others under construction. Right now, the assigned medical committee are of the strong opinion that the prisoner isn’t yet fit to be forcibly questioned. And at this moment, it’s completely their decision. Straightforward questioning is permitted, but strong-arm tactics or truth-inducing drugs are out of the question. Not until she’s regained strength.”
Cal shook his head and almost smiled at the absurdity of it. What about Kaia’s wellbeing? Or the countless others the pirates are harming?
Lawrence joined Cal in gripping the railing. “I’m telling you this because I care about you, Cal. I have a fair amount of sway around here, but if you so much as lay a finger on the prisoner, they’ll arrest you, and there won’t be a damn thing I’ll be able to do about it. If you really want to save Kaia, I suggest you tread carefully.”
His temper still simmering, Cal took a moment to think over the warning. Despite the harshness of the situation, he was glad to see that Lawrence was still demonstrating the qualities born from his long imprisonment on C9. That lazy, arrogant man was long gone, a leader having taken his place and a man deserving of his new rank. Cal wasn’t sure that he could be swayed on this matter, but perhaps Lawrence’s words did warrant some attention.
“Okay, Lawrence. Why don’t you tell me about these rules?”
Author’s Thanks
As always, I’d like to thank you, the reader, for choosing my novel among countless others that are stacked high upon Amazon’s straining, digital shelves! I hope you enjoyed it and it left you eager for more! If you have the time, I’d be incredibly grateful for a review on Amazon (even a very brief one) as it really does help newer authors like myself from being unceremoniously squished beneath the masses.
I’d like to send out a big thanks to my family and friends for their continued support. Also my invaluable test readers; Mark, Donald and Paddy. And a big thanks to my wife, Liz for her advice on the story and for reading through the book more times than any human should have to bear in order to spot any continuity errors, plot holes and those pesky typos!
Thanks also to my editor, Amanda Shore, my cover adviser Andrew Hall, cover artist Justin Adams and designer Domi. Also, much gratitude to Polgarus Studio for the all important formatting.
Stay tuned for more!
www.jgcressey.com
