by Greg Dragon
Cilas grinned. He knew it was a compliment, and the two men clasped hands and touched each other’s shoulders. “Don’t stress it, Amatu. You need to stay moving. Don’t worry for us, we know how to survive. When the Rendron comes, I will inform them of your heroics, and set up a meeting between you and Captain Sho.”
“I hope that you find these spacesuits helpful in your travels,” he said, and handed them each a bundle. “They are made from adaptable Traxis material, impervious to fire and unfriendly conditions. Most of the pilots on Louine wear them. So when you go, know that we go with you.”
He had come in with four spacers, and they all saluted in unison, and then he was gone through the watery door. Helga went back to the infirmary and slipped into her suit. It was as tight as her old 3B XO-suit, but easier to slip on and get comfortable in.
When she rejoined Brise and Cilas, they were wearing theirs as well. They said their goodbyes to the medical crew, then gathered their bundles to begin their walk. They were taken through a series of long passageways, with rebels saluting them as they went.
After a number of elevators and narrow passageways, they finally reached the flight deck. Helga was surprised to find it empty, but reminded herself that the ship was stolen and undermanned. The skeleton crew was busy on maintenance, and the majority were crew, not fighter jocks.
It also surprised her that the escape pods were on the dock when most Alliance ships had them near the bridge. She recalled the day one of the cadets had snuck into a pod on a dare, but couldn’t deploy it without the captain’s key. That same cadet was now one of the Rendron’s dockhands, permanently grounded for pulling that stunt.
The memory of the cadet commander ripping into him almost brought a smile to Helga’s face. She hated that cadet; he was one of the many who bullied her. Prior to his failed deployment, he made her young years a living hell.
The Louines led them to a hatch, which opened up to the interior of their escape ship. Brise, who hadn’t said anything in an hour, climbed inside without looking back. Helga followed him in, curious about the controls, but Cilas lingered behind to speak to the men.
They were loaded up with boxes of rations, military equipment, and words of encouragement. Helga, too focused to be concerned with supplies, looked over the controls to make sure she could handle them. “Controls are in basic, and the layout is familiar,” she said, more to herself than to the men.
She contemplated defiance, flying them towards the moon despite Cilas’s plans. Before the Geralos jumped in, she could get them to the Britz. But how far would she make it before Cilas commandeered the controls? It was a foolish thought, best left abandoned, so she focused on her job and examined the console.
“How old is this piece of junk?” she whispered, looking around to see what else was out of place.
Cilas came inside and strapped himself in. “You want to get in position, Ate?” he said, “The San is about to launch us, and you don’t want to be in that seat when the gravity drops.”
Helga got up from the chair and walked over to a launch station. She strapped herself in and waited for The San. Cilas kept his eyes on her as if he expected her to speak, but Helga was too busy fighting her inner doubts to notice.
The voice of the captain came over the comms, and he said a few words in his strange Louine language. “Lieutenant Cilas and crew, we apologize for having to do this, but wish for the gods to guide you back to your home,” he said. “When you are out on your own, keep an eye on your radar, and try to stay hidden from the Geralos warships.”
“I don’t understand why they can’t just bring us back once the lizards are gone,” Brise said.
Helga couldn’t believe Brise. Is he really this thick, or does he know something we don’t? she wondered. “They’ve risked their lives to save us, Sol. Isn’t that enough? They gave us a chance, and now we need to act like Nighthawks. Stop looking for a break; we’ve already been given that. Whatever comes when they let us go is entirely up to us. I know you’re frustrated, but suggesting impossible things will not help any of us.”
“Prepare for launch,” the captain said, and the cockpit turned red as an alarm began to blare.
Helga closed her eyes and thought about her brother. She wondered where he was and what he was doing. Did he have a family? Was he happy? Was she as dead to him as he made it seem?
She hoped that he was somewhere successful and far away. Maybe he was on Casan, living amongst their mother’s people. If he was, then it was likely that he was an artist. Casanians more than anyone held creativity in high regard.
She decided that she didn’t care what he did for a living, as long as it had nothing to do with the war. Their father, Algo had been a career spacer, and had fought against the Geralos since he was in his teens. His father before him had done the same, as well as his mother, and their parents before them.
Helga was the legacy, becoming a cadet, and now a member of the elite Nighthawks. She wanted to know that if she died on this ship, Rolph with a family would carry on their name. Unlike him, she had nothing to lose. No one would miss her if she never returned. She smiled sadly, allowing it to sink in. She was a “nobody,” that no one would mourn.
This admission led her to the ultimate acceptance of her fate. It was as if she had died inside of that Geralos prison. She felt a freedom that she’d never experienced before. The happy, ambitious Helga Ate had died, survived by this hollow woman with pain in her heart.
She opened her eyes and saw Cilas watching her, and it was then that she realized that she was clutching her chest. “We’re going to make it, Ate. Can you trust me, at least with this?” he said.
She met his eyes, too shaken to respond. Why is he trying to make me feel better? she thought. Me, the dead woman, on a doomed escape ship. The look that he gave her made her feel sick. She didn’t want his pity or whatever it was he felt.
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” she whispered, releasing the fabric on her chest.
The vessel shook violently, and the lights went off, followed by the blast doors ascending to shield their launch. They watched The San as it faded in the distance, along with Dyn where everything had been lost.
We have to make it, Helga thought suddenly, not liking the idea of the Nighthawks’ sacrifice being in vain. Who would know what they had done if none of them made it to tell their tale? Varnes especially deserved better, and she wanted to make sure that his family knew.
The vessel shook and they slowed to a halt as the computers blinked to life. The lights came up and the air cooled, and the restraints on their stations loosened. Helga exhaled and unclipped her straps, then floated over to the pilot’s seat where she strapped herself in.
“I don’t know how long we’re going to be out here,” she said. “But we need to be prepared for anything. We can’t die. I’ll do my part to make sure of it. I expect that you Nighthawks will do the same.”
14
Helga stood in front of one of the giant glass blast windows staring out at Vestalia. It hovered before her like a bright blue ball submerged in jet-black ink. The other cadets were having fun, dancing, laughing, and having a good time. Several boys had taken turns asking her to dance, but she had happily sent them on their way.
She wore a long black dress that accentuated her athletic form, and her hair was up to reveal the Casanian spots on the side of her head. It had taken her a long time to feel proud of her non-human heritage, but now that she did, she wanted all of her critics to see.
“Something told me that I would find you here,” someone said, “standing apart from the others.”
It was the captain of the Rendron, Retzo Sho—a man who she never thought she’d have the honor of meeting. Why would she? She was just another orphaned Navy cadet, and Retzo’s office was the highest on the ship.
“Captain Sho.” Helga gulped, bowing deeply.
“Relax, Cadet Ate, there’s no need for formalities. This is your graduation, after all. Second class, isn’t
that right?”
Helga nodded, smiling proudly. “The first one in five years,” she said. “I still find it hard to believe.”
“To believe what, that you’re special, or that you’re the first in five years?” he said. “Cilas Mec was the last cadet to break past tier-three. Before him there was me, and only twenty other Rendron cadets. It’s a tremendous feat, Helga, there’s no need to be modest. You’re in a small fraternity of leaders now, one of the five percent. I heard your father served, so I looked him up. First Sergeant, Algo Ate, a Marine.”
“Yes sir, Dad was a career spacer, just like all the Ates before him,” she said.
“Algo gave up a lot to fight for the Alliance,” he said reflectively. “He was impressive. I’m surprised he didn’t try for BLAST. The things they did on Meluvia, Traxis, and Casan.” He whistled. “Men and women of his generation were made from different stuff. Anyway, I’ve held you up too long, and I’m sure you’d rather be celebrating. Keep up the good work, Helga, and like your father Algo, great things will be coming your way.”
With that, he touched her shoulder in the standard gesture of support. He then took his leave, and was joined by a host of guards as he exited the graduation party.
Did that just happen? Helga thought. She couldn’t believe that she had met Retzo Sho. She let out a sigh and returned to staring at the planet floating outside of the window. There was a difference in what reflected back at her now, taking her focus off the planet. She was seated in a vessel, and directly behind her, two men were playing on their handheld devices.
Helga realized that she had been dreaming, and she was strapped into the cockpit of the escape ship. It had been two months since they’d left The San and a set of Geralos ships were now orbiting Dyn. The Louine ship had jumped, leaving them stranded, and they were stuck, doing whatever they could to pass the time.
Helga spent most of her days fiddling with the ship’s computer. She had grown comfortable with its interface and had begun a procedure of tweaking it to perfection. When she wasn’t doing that, she was talking to Cilas and Brise. Most of their time was spent swapping stories, and other times joking around.
A few times during the week, they would don EVA suits and crawl through the airlock outside. The tiny ship may have started out as an escape pod, but as an interplanetary vessel, it had everything a traveler would need.
It was Brise who found the EVA suits, and it was he who took the first venture outside. What they found was that time in the vacuum of space was a therapeutic activity. Outside the ship, Helga found peace from the “trapped in a tin can” feeling that occupied her mind. Their prison wasn’t a terrible one, but she had trouble getting accustomed to it.
Cilas—who was quiet all the time—was not the best conversationalist, and Brise, with his lack of couth, had the worst opinions to share. Helga wished that Loray Qu, the cadet commander, was on the ship with them, or Casein Varnes with his stories of Virulia, or Lamia with his spy adventures.
When they weren’t lazing around or taking turns in the EVA suits, Cilas tried to make contact with the Rendron. Brise stayed on his personal device—Helga assumed he was playing games—and she would study the galaxy map, trying to come up with options to get home.
“You’ve been staring at that monitor for a few hours now, Ate. What are the lizards doing that can keep your attention like that?” Brise said.
“Nothing, they’re doing nothing,” she said. “I was actually asleep. Had a dream about a day, back in the cadet academy, when I had my first meeting with the Captain.”
“You met Retzo Sho?” he said, and she could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“I met him and we spoke about my dad. It was one of the best days of my life, to be honest. I know that you think I’m full of schtill, Sol, and I want you to know that you don’t have to believe me. It’s just nice to finally dream about something positive for once. I’ve been cycling nightmares nonstop about being inside of that Geralos hell.”
“You and me both,” he said. “They haven’t stopped for me either. What about you, Lieutenant, you still having nightmares?” he said.
Cilas looked up from his personal device, and regarded each of them carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of schtill, Brise. Too much to count, really. It isn’t easy to brush off and forget the type of things we’ve seen. You keep some of it with you for the rest of your life. That is, unless you’re one of those rare freaks who can push it down until you forget it. Every time I close my eyes I see Lamia coming at us the way he did.”
“Did you ever think about a psych treatment, Lieutenant?” Brise said. “They say the doctors on the Rendron can black out whole chunks of your past if they deem it unhealthy for you to keep remembering.”
“That would be great, Sol, but officers need their memory. We have to live with past mistakes so that we don’t make them again, and use that knowledge to educate our future ESOs. You and Ate are new, and unfortunately you’ve been through something worse than I have had to deal with in over ten years of active service. I am recommending that you both see the psych doctor as soon as we hit the Rendron, and it will be totally your prerogative whether to wipe the memory or not.”
“No thanks,” Helga said, thinking about being strapped to a hospital bed and going through the same confusion she did being chained to the wall. “I am an officer, so like the lieutenant I’ll keep my nightmares and learn to live with them.”
“I’ll remember that little speech when you airlock yourself and the council brings us forward for questioning,” Brise said.
“Were you always this dull an instrument, or did it take some effort?” Helga said. But Brise didn’t seem to take offense. Instead he made a face and went back to his device.
She wondered how long it would take before they all wanted to kill one another on the ship. There was a tension growing between Cilas and Brise, and she could no longer pretend to ignore it. Brise was annoying, and he seemed to be getting worse. When he would ask Cilas a question, the answer would be brief. That is, if he chose to answer him at all.
Brise was in trouble, and she wondered why he didn’t see it. The constant insubordination that he displayed would either get him reprimanded or transferred off the Rendron. That seemed harsh, but Cilas was as serious as they came, and Brise had crossed the line several times.
She had thought about talking to him when Cilas was outside. Just a brief suggestion for him to apologize, and reassure their leader that he was loyal. But Brise was immature, and had proven this time after time. She didn’t know whether he’d take her advice or turn it into another accusation of her being the favorite child.
It was exhausting, but she recognized that it was inevitable when you lock two men together who were so drastically different. The only reason Cilas hadn’t killed him by now was due to them having the EVA to allow him to blow off some steam.
Helga tried to imagine if they couldn’t get out and all she could see was Cilas choking Brise and swearing her to secrecy. Would she have to become the wall that separated the two? It would be a full-time job and not one that she particularly wanted.
“Hey, Ate, I’m sorry,” Brise said, and when her eyes met his she was surprised to read sincerity. “You got it a lot worse than we did, and I know that you’re going through your own schtill. That joke I made earlier about the airlock, I’m sorry, it wasn’t funny.”
“Thank you,” she said, not knowing what else to say. The apology had come so unexpectedly that Helga was stunned. When she looked over at Cilas, she caught him looking, and he too seemed surprised with Brise’s apology. “We’re stuck together for a long time, Brise, and we don’t have the luxury of retiring to our own bunks when we’re upset. I can’t afford to get offended over the things you say or it will be really hard to keep my head.”
“I agree,” he said. “Thanks for being so cool about it.” She knew that his words were meant for Cilas to hear, but she accepted his gratitude regardless.
With the ship
being an escape pod it wasn’t outfitted with the gravity simulation that commercial ships had. This forced them to stay in perpetual zero gravity within the tube-like chamber. There was the pilot’s station—or cockpit if you were keeping the ship façade—which was a caged in console with a giant monitor, and several “rest stations,” which were padded recesses along the sides.
It was apparent that it was a rushed solution since comfort wasn’t easy for the Nighthawks. But the temperature was regulated, and they were stocked with supplies, and enough power to keep their personal devices going strong. The devices were good for watching vids, listening to music, and playing games. Brise found a way to connect his with the ship’s computer, so that if anything went wrong, he would know immediately.
Helga’s pastime was watching the distant moon, and the odd colored “stars” that were really Geralos destroyers. They had jumped in soon after they’d left The San, and had been there for over a Vestalian week. She watched them daily, wondering what they would find, and what they would do once they found it.
The most pressing part of her worry was that they would probe the space near Louine. There would be starships orbiting to the planet, and more than likely they would be ignored. If the Louines were as meticulous with their cleanup as Cilas had said, then the lizards wouldn’t suspect their involvement.
Their escape ship was Louine, but it was an obvious anomaly, and the cloak that they used was a hack discovered by Brise. It utilized mirror technology and would reflect back any visual shots, but if the Geralos did a deep probe then they were bound to be discovered.
It would only take one shot to burn a hole through the hull that would kill them instantly. So Helga watched them daily, preparing for when they would start their investigation. If they so much as moved, she would take them farther away from Dyn. The downside to her plan, however, was that they relied on its gravity.
