Smoke and Shadow

by Kelly Gay

  Rion nodded her thanks. “Official story says she was lost with all hands. But a lot of us, the other families, never really believed it. We heard so many conflicting reports. The things my grandfather learned from his military contacts suggest the Missing-In-Action designation only changed to Lost-With-All-Hands because the brass decided we needed closure. What we needed was the truth. And for us, until we learn otherwise, the ship remains missing. My father and the other eleven-thousand-plus crew on board remain missing.”

  A heavy weight seemed to settle in the room, and time stretched. Rion’s blood pressure had risen with every word, each one simple and concise, but weighted down by an immeasurable amount of history and hurt.

  Lessa lifted her head, her gaze on Rion, fixed and speculative. “Why are you telling us this now?”

  “Because I found something on the Roman Blue, something that might lead me to answers. And I can’t turn my back on it. I can’t go back to salvaging and jumping the trade routes until I sort this out.” She reached into her pocket and set the chip on the table. Everyone leaned forward.

  “What’s that?” Kip asked.

  “Answers.”

  Cade took the chip and inserted it into the table’s holo-display. They all watched as the holographic list of journal dates appeared.

  “Go to the last entry,” Rion said quietly.

  Cade selected it and they watched the same video journal that had shocked Rion back on Eiro. Captain Webb’s tired appearance, the defeat in his voice, the utter weight of the war . . . As Rion watched it again, it left her feeling spent and hollow.

  When it was over, no one spoke. Then Cade turned to her. “You want that buoy.”

  Goose bumps spread up her arms. More than anything. “Yeah. I’m going after the Radiant Perception. I’m going to find that buoy and I’m going to find out what happened to the Spirit of Fire and her crew.”

  “Is this the part where you say it’s personal and you don’t expect any of us to come along?” Niko asked with suspicion. “You’ll drop us wherever we want to go, just say the word, blah, blah, blah—”

  A smile tugged Rion’s lips. “I don’t expect any of you to come along. I don’t know where this is heading or how long it’ll take. And I don’t plan on stopping until the trail runs cold.”

  Silence descended in the lounge as her words sank in.

  “But you should also know,” she continued, “a trip like this still has the potential to pay out big.”

  “Radiant Perception was a Covenant vessel,” Cade said with a slow grin.

  Rion returned the grin.

  “Um, okay, what are we missing?” Niko glanced between them.

  “Salvage gold,” Cade replied. “Salvage gold.”

  FIVE

  * * *

  * * *

  Ace of Spades, Ectanus 45 system, four hours from Chi Rho

  “Kip, will you pull up a CPV-class heavy destroyer schematic?”

  Once the image hovered above the table, Rion explained: “During the war, nearly every Covenant vessel carried on board something called a luminary. The device was specifically designed to pick up signals emitted from Forerunner technology. The Covenant was big on finding and using the Forerunners’ advanced tech to—as we all know—wipe humanity from the galaxy. Luminaries were key pieces to aid their cause.”

  “How is it I’ve never heard of one?” Niko asked.

  “From what I’ve gathered from my digging and from ex-Covenant willing to talk, the Covenant had a pretty rigid protocol. It was called the Writ of . . . Security, Sanctity, something like that. Either way, it was designed to protect their sacred objects from falling into what they considered ‘unclean hands.’ The writ ordered the destruction of the luminary aboard any vessel should that vessel be compromised. They’d rather destroy their own tech and ships than let us get ahold of Forerunner artifacts.”

  “So finding one means we’d have our very own Forerunner-artifact sniffer,” Lessa said, clearly warming up to the idea and its potential.

  Niko leaned back and linked his hands behind his head. “Salvage gold. I like it.”

  “And this Radiant Perception,” Kip said. “If we do find it . . .”

  Rion turned off the holo-image. “Chances are we won’t. Destroyers are like luminaries. You don’t come across them every day, and if you do, they’re already in the hands of those who could wipe us off the map. But if that vessel is out there, or even part of it is sitting in some shipyard somewhere, it’s possible we might find a luminary that wasn’t destroyed. And I might find my buoy.”

  “It’s a big galaxy,” Cade said at length.

  “It is,” Kip agreed, slowly shaking his head, a thoughtful expression drawing his brows. When he looked up, Rion was surprised to see possibility in his gaze. “But I swear I never thought I’d see a battlecruiser either, so . . .”

  The rest of the crew started smiling, then laughing, and Rion stood there rather shocked that no one had outright bailed on her or even presented the slightest hesitation.

  She went to the cabinet and pulled out a precious bottle of Alt Burgundy. “I think this calls for a drink.”

  Cade retrieved glasses and they toasted to finding answers.

  Before they took a sip, Niko added, “And here’s to weeks stuck on the ship with my irritating sister. If it’s too long, I’m going in cryo.”

  “To weeks successfully avoiding my idiot brother,” she shot back. “And finally having time to finish my Mindirian blanket.”

  “You’ve been working on that thing for two years,” Niko said, rolling his eyes. He lifted his glass. “Fine. To finishing the god-awful, hairy-ass beast of a blanket.”

  “It’s wool! And I’m not going to sleep with it. It’s going on the wall. It’s decoration. Imbecile.”

  “What about you, Kip?” Rion asked.

  He thought for a moment, then raised his glass. “Here’s to exploring the universe and finding your father.”

  Amen. Now that, everyone could drink to.

  * * *

  “Here.” Rion glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Cade’s voice. He approached with another glass of Alt Burgundy. The crew had left the lounge some time ago, and Rion had gone to the observation window to think. Soon Chi Rho would appear and fill the view with something other than the blackness of space.

  She took the offered glass. “Thanks.”

  Cade remained silent, lurking behind her. At five-ten, she wasn’t short by any means, but when Cade came this close, she felt petite. Part of her wanted to lean back and settle against his frame, to steal some warmth, to feel some measure of comfort and stability, but she remained stiff. As warm as the alcohol was going down, it didn’t alleviate her tension.

  “That buoy is probably long gone,” she said after a few moments.

  “Or could be the UNSC already recovered it.”

  If that were the case, Rion hoped she never found out the truth, because if the UNSC had located that buoy and kept secret what happened to her father and the Spirit of Fire, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing something foolish.

  “More than likely, they never recovered it,” she said. “I mean, think about it. At the time, the Covenant was coming through, glassing planets. The military was scrambling, trying to figure out the threat . . . to survive and save anyone they could.” It must have been a sobering, chaotic time for humanity and a huge weight on the shoulders of a military tasked with stopping an alien invasion right on the heels of insurrection within its own colonies. A lost buoy wouldn’t have been on anyone’s radar, not when it was a struggle just to stay alive.

  That the buoy still existed at all would be a miracle.

  But then, all manner of things were finding their way back into circulation. In postwar, anything was possible.

  Cade moved to stand beside her. “If the Radian
t Perception picked up the buoy, they would have deciphered it if they could. Might have gone after your father’s ship. . . .”

  In her early days on the Hakon, she’d followed in the wake of UNSC fleets, remained on the edges of one battle after another. She’d witnessed the real damage wrought when two warships came together. If the Radiant Perception had found the Spirit of Fire, the outcome wouldn’t have been good. . . .

  “A lot could’ve happened,” Cade said when she didn’t respond.

  In the last twenty-six years, the possibilities were endless. Even though she’d finally found a mention of her father’s ship, Rion was well aware that she was embarking on an impossible mission, an outrageous attempt to find a tiny grain of sand in a galaxy full of stars. . . .

  She took another sip, welcoming the burn in her throat and the spread of fire through her belly. Some of her stress finally eased, allowing her to lean against Cade’s shoulder. He responded by slipping an arm around her back. “When I learned my family was gone . . .” He paused, seeming unsure how to continue. A heavy sigh escaped him. “Yeah, if there was any doubt, any hint that one of them made it out alive . . . I’d never stop looking. Never.”

  More than anyone, Cade understood her drive. And yet she couldn’t help the sharp twinge of guilt that came with his words. Because he had lost everyone—and she had not.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She gave a slight shrug. “I still have family. I could be with my mother even now. I could stop all this and go back to Earth, if she’s still there. . . .” But she’d opted to run, and to keep on running to the very edge of human-occupied space. “Instead I’m out here in the dark, chasing ghosts.”

  Cade’s grip on her tightened, a soft squeeze to tell her that he was on her side. “You’re not one to stay grounded, Forge. A stationary life, it’s not for everyone. Out here . . . it calls to people like us. Calls so hard we walk away even from those we love.”

  She tossed an unimpressed look his way. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Because that little nugget of truth only solidified her guilt.

  His soft chuckle warmed her as much as the last bit of burgundy she’d thrown back. “Hey. I tried. Was working for a while.”

  In the end, though, Cade was right. They’d answered the call, and they both had to live with their decisions. Rion knew if she had to do it all over again, she’d still walk away. She’d still answer the call to the stars. She was cut from the same cloth as every other Forge who came before her. Her grandfather had often said that Forges had wanderlust in their blood—that and a thirst for adventure. On bad days, when his mind broke, he’d change that last part to “a thirst for killin’.”

  She’d never had bloodlust, but the wanderlust? That was there in spades. Always on the move, always going, always being pulled . . . While she had very few memories of her dad she vividly recalled his restless energy. On leave, he’d be jumpy, like he couldn’t quite figure out how to live a civilian life. When his time was up, he was sad to go, but even at her young age, Rion could tell a part of him was relieved to get his feet off the ground and back into the sky.

  Her mother could tell it too. Their marriage had been strained since before Rion was born. Neither one could claim the title of perfect spouse; they both had their faults. But sometimes Rion wondered if her mother envied her own daughter—maybe even hated her a little—for all the time and attention John Forge gave to Rion when he was home.

  “We all have our demons,” Cade said, his voice dropping. “And our regrets.”

  She let her head rest on his shoulder. He pulled her close and Rion’s thoughts settled.

  She and Cade were alike in many ways. The similarities had led them first into friendship, then into bed, and eventually into tumultuous times. Their relationship cycled around those stages like a planet orbiting a star. But always, no matter what, theirs was a deep, abiding friendship. He was her constant, and she was his. And in the confines of a ship in deep space, the reality of having someone you could count on was immeasurable.

  SIX

  * * *

  * * *

  Ace of Spades, 400,000 kilometers off Chi Rho

  Checking File Systems….. DONE...

  Checking Security…… DONE…

  >>>>>>>>>>>>>

  ONI FIELD PAD

  LOG IN: ********

  PASSWORD: *************

  >>>>>>>>>>>>

  Encryption Code: OCTWTF

  Clearance Level: H

  ACCESS GRANTED

  To: Hahn

  From: 67159-021127

  Location: Ectanus 45

  Found: Halcyon-class cruiser, Roman Blue on Eiro. Destroyed by unknown vessel. NOTE: Was that you?

  Recovered: Captain’s personal log chip mentioning buoy dropped by Spirit of Fire. Date of drop unknown. Date of log: March 10, 2531. It’s assumed the buoy was picked up by Covenant destroyer Radiant Perception near the planet Arcadia. Current: Proceeding to Chi Rho orbital comm sat to research the whereabouts of the destroyer.

  NOTE: Captain Forge is hell-bent on retrieving the buoy. Instructions?

  Agent 67159-021127 watched the cursor on the datapad blink for approximately thirty-nine seconds.

  Had it been ONI firing upon the Roman Blue today? If so, why hadn’t they waited for Rion to leave the wreckage? Had they wanted her to die? No. That wasn’t what they’d told him when he was recruited. They wanted to use her; they’d made that very clear. She was an asset, a successful Outer Colony salvager who’d made such a name for herself that she warranted keeping an eye on for what she might find.

  And Rion Forge found a lot of things.

  The screen lit up.

  Transmission received.

  Report next destination.

  END

  SEVEN

  * * *

  * * *

  Bridge, Ace of Spades, 400,000 kilometers off Chi Rho

  Lessa found Rion on the bridge, sitting at comms, already researching the Radiant Perception.

  She’d been surprised to learn about the captain’s past. Usually, Rion kept a tight lid on her personal life, and for a people person like Lessa, it made her wildly curious. She wanted to know more about the woman who had rescued her and Niko from what would’ve been a very short life on Aleria.

  When Rion had caught her and Niko in the bazaar on Aleria and discovered the truth of what they’d been trying to do, Lessa had been relieved. She was tired of ripping people off, tired of the goddamn heat and never-ending drought, tired of grit always in her eyes and mouth, of avoiding the courier guilds and having to pay a portion of whatever they stole to whatever guild happened to gain control from one month to the next. It was exhausting.

  And Niko had been changing, becoming more and more like them with every passing day. More reckless, desensitized to violence . . . She was scared to death of losing him and scared of being alone.

  It had been a gamble from the start, targeting Rion. The tall, dark-haired captain moved through the bazaar with a confident presence, sharp eyes scanning the stalls, expression alert and ready, yet relaxed too, like she’d be just as comfortable shopping the bazaar as she would taking on a direct assault.

  Lessa envied her.

  At first she’d just watched and followed. Owing to the heat, Rion had worn fatigues paired with a black tank top and a pistol strapped to her thigh. The sides of her dark hair had been braided back and tied into a bun. Smart. Lessa knew from experience that having your hair fisted and used as leverage in a fight was never a good thing.

  Trying to rob Rion Forge had turned out to be the best day of her life.

  And Rion didn’t even know.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could tell the captain had gotten the gist of things real quick—what their life must be like and how it most likely would end up had they stayed on Ale
ria. With a median life span of forty-five years, Aleria wasn’t exactly a hotbed of promise and hope.

  More like a hot mess of fear and despair.

  The way Lessa saw it, she owed Rion. So if the captain wanted to search the entire galaxy for her father, then Lessa was game.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” she said, startling Rion from her research. Lessa bit her lip and stared down at a fingernail, picking at it nervously. As much as she loved the crew, none of them were very big on talking, but sometimes a girl just needed to chat. . . . “I don’t really remember my parents.”

  Rion turned her full attention to Lessa. “Did they pass away?”

  “What?”

  “Your parents. Did they pass away?”

  “Oh. Um. I don’t know. Probably. There’s a lot of young parents on Aleria. They go into the mines and never come out. Or they come out sick. Or they go off smuggling. . . . Do you remember him, your dad?”

  “I was young, but the memories I do have . . . Yeah, they’re crystal clear.”

  “Do you look alike?” As a child, Lessa would always look at faces. In the bazaar, in the mines, in the tent cities, always looking for a resemblance to Niko or herself, always wondering whom they belonged to. . . .

  “My grandfather used to say I was the spitting image of my dad, only ‘a hell of a lot prettier.’ When my dad would come home on leave, my grandfather would tease him about it.” A grin lingered on her lips as she remembered. “My dad would smile and say the ladies found him pretty enough.”

  “They seem like fun people.”

  “Fun and loud and argumentative. It was always a whirlwind when my dad came home. A quick whirlwind, and then it went back to being . . . quiet.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Still on Earth, I guess. We were never close.” By the way Rion’s face fell, Lessa could tell it was a source of remorse for the captain. “Not like I was with my dad or my grandfather.”