This Starry Deep

by Adam P. Knave

  I felt fine, but knew that wasn’t enough to go on. The Tsyfarians looked pleased, though. This might be the answer they’d needed. The tests started and Dad took Mom and I to meet some people. Three folks who had flown a rescue ship and then held the peace, in a tiny rickety ship. Untrained, even. Dad was proud of them, but I could see it hurt him to be around them. They’d lost one of their own, and Dad felt it worse than they did. He hadn’t been there, and I knew that was what ate him up.

  The five of us talked while tests ran. We didn’t discuss anything important, tell any deep personal stories. We just talked as if we were five people who hadn’t been to war that week. It was a nice illusion.

  Eventually Mom, Dad, and I were called back to the lab. The tests had come back and everything was a go. The Hurkz had given us bad data, but hidden it inside too much good data. Now it just needed to be adapted for the Tsyfarians. They gave us some blood samples and all the work started over again. This time, though, it wasn’t about “if” anymore. It’d become a conversation about “when.” We left them so Dad could call Tslakog.

  “If you haven’t heard, we’re almost there,” Dad opened with, instead of any sort of greeting.

  “The food you sent has also arrived. There is a chance, my friend, this will all work.”

  “Or at least enough of it to scrape by, huh?” Dad leaned back.

  “I am truly sorry to hear about the loss of your comrade. That was a regrettable mistake,” Tslakog said.

  “No one is placing blame,” Dad reassured him, telling him a pretty lie since both Mom and I knew he placed lots of blame squarely on his own shoulders. “It was a mad, tense time. Still is. A mistake was made and, thankfully, stopped.”

  “You speak with wisdom.”

  “Not wisdom,” Dad insisted, “old age. I’ve seen too many wars started over something stupid to not recognize it.”

  “I, too, am sick of war. Jonah, truly, your whole family is a friend to the Tsyfarian people, now and forever, for all that you have done. Possibly sparing us from the slaughter we partook in before, no one can calculate how many lives you may have saved.”

  “Thank us when the job is done. We’re not there just yet.”

  “But we will be soon,” Tslakog said, full of confidence.

  “We hope. But we won’t know until we are.”

  “You play your joy close.”

  “I’ve run afoul of being too confident before,” Dad said.

  “Well then, I shall let you go back to your work, and hope to hear soon that we have found success.” The screen went dark and Dad sighed.

  “He’s right,” he said after a minute, “we should get back.”

  “I was sort of enjoying just sitting here, as a family, without gunfire for a change,” Mom told him.

  “It is nice,” I agreed.

  Dad laughed. He also stayed where he was. We sat there like that, in silence together, for at least an hour. No one came to find us, no one bothered us - we just relished sitting there and not having to be at war. Too often, growing up, I’d missed this. Both my parents had been off saving a world somewhere, and when they weren’t I was demanding we go find an adventure I could be a part of.

  I didn’t regret it my choices. Deep down I don’t think any of us thought we’d been wrong in how our lives had been led. It still that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice to try the other side for a while. I felt, for the first time, really, like an equal. They would always be my parents, always ready to rush in to help, but the three of us had never done this before. Gone into one of their situations - together. It felt nice. Really nice. I felt sure they knew it, too.

  Mills came into the room. “Jonah,” he said, after a quick apology, “they’re ready for you, all of you.” He nodded at us and stood by the door. We got up and followed him back to the lab.

  “We’re ready for the final test,” one the techs said as we entered. “If this works, we’ve done it.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Mom asked, looking at the Tsyfarian lying on the exam table. They were injecting the serum into his arm and readying the mask.

  “Then,” the Tsyfarian said, raising his head before the mask came down, “they will try again, without me.” He lowered his head and we all grew silent. They were a brave species, the Tsyfarians. Loyal and true, at least the ones we’d met.

  Shame about the genocide. I suppose if something happens so infrequently that whole generations pass between each occurrence it becomes almost religion, and you don’t question those openly too often. But when you did, the whole world could change around you.

  We stood watch while he dropped off, sinking into the same oblivion I’d found. He’d be back. The Tsyfarians were different from the Hurkz, but closer to each other than either were to humanity.

  We stood watch over him, not wanting to move even though it would be twelve hours yet. Eventually everyone in the room had to leave: to eat, to nap, to deal with other problems big and small. We went in shifts, though, making sure we all knew where everyone was. When it came time to wake him, we all wanted to be there. There was a notch in the clock, it felt like, a single notch that could tell the tale of two species. All we could do was wait for the clock to strike.

  Eventually, of course, it did. They pumped the reviving gas through the mask and nothing happened. We quieted, watching as his vital signs didn’t peak. They laid flat, almost imperceptible. One of the med techs reached for a defibrillator, thinking that might kick-start the cycle, but suddenly the levels all jumped. The gas was working - it just took longer than it had on a Hurkz, namely me.

  He woke up, sitting up and glancing at the clock. Then he smiled. “Let us begin the after-effect tests,” he said, holding out one arm. We cheered, every last person in the room.

  While they ran their tests, Dad went to call Tslakog again, just to give him the latest update personally. No one wanted to deny him that pleasure.

  “So, what about Hodges?” I asked Mom while he was gone making his call.

  “What about him?” she gave me a look.

  “Is he going to just get away with kidnapping you?”

  “You’re asking something I don’t have an answer to. If you’re really asking if I’d like to deal with him, you know that answer. But that doesn’t mean I will, or that it would be the right move.”

  I nodded, and Dad came back in the room. I let the Hodges question drop for a few as the tests came back good. The hibernation technology would work on the Tsyfarians. And I thought we had all cheered before.

  I went along this time, as Dad gave Tslakog the final update.

  “It works,” Dad said. Simple and direct. A war had been one, by avoiding it, and that made this a great day.

  “Then we can go and decide our own fate,” Tslakog said.

  “Always,” Dad replied. Behind him and allowed myself a smile.

  “In return,” the lizard-faced leader said, “we shall divert our fleet and aim it directly at the Hurkz.”

  “Uhm, what?”

  “They are now your enemies and so we name them ours as well. Harvesting their planet will allow us to range even further afield from human lands.”

  “You can’t,” I cut in, stepping forward.

  “We can, and we shall, stranger,” Tslakog, said.

  “Mud, mayb—”

  “My name is Mud, son of Jonah,” I said, cutting Dad off and trying to adopt a more diplomatic tone. “And committing genocide in our name is wrong.”

  “But Mud,” Dad said, “I mean, it’s wrong but I can’t say it wouldn’t solve problems.”

  “And you don’t think they should, either. But you’d probably give in, wrongly, just for a second, right now.” I shifted my focus back to Tslakog, “Which is why I have to step in. No.”

  “You can not order our fleet,” he replied.

  “This race you consider is my original race. They hunt me,” I told him, “and wish me dead. That does not make it acceptable for me to kill them on a whim. Nor does it allow
me to wish their destruction, even from someone I would like to consider a new friend and ally.”

  Dad looked at me and nodded. The joy of the moment, the rush of it, brought him close to an edge. Add in his exhaustion and hurt over the loss of that guy on the ship, would he have done it? Allowed it? No. But for a second he may have faltered and that could have dug just enough of a hole. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have to carry every load alone.

  Tslakog kept a level gaze through the screen. “Son of Jonah you may be,” he said, “but I have had my fill of being told how to direct my race recently.”

  “You can stand with us, with humanity, against needless slaughter like the actions you threaten, or you can stand against us. Against us isn’t smart. Not,” I added quickly, “because of war. But because it rejects newfound alliances. Ones we all need. It rejects the spirit of life we would all wish to live under. Including the Tsyfarian, I think.”

  “I shall take,” Tslakog said, “your…wisdom…under consideration.”

  He flipped the screen off and Dad smiled at me. “You did amazing, kid. Thank you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I felt proud of myself, and stood a bit straighter as we walked away together.

  “Think they’ll listen?” I asked the old man.

  “He will. Tslakog is a good guy. He’s smart. I think, like me, sometimes he just needs a push in the right direction. Again, thanks. Mud.”

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. Dad peeled off to deal with a minor issue Mills radioed him with. I went right back to the others.

  Everything else happened quickly. The Tsyfarians would be escorted through human space, just to alleviate any lingering concerns. They’d be outfitted with a host of techs to build them more hibernation beds until they could manage on their own. Another food supply drop would be made as well, just as insurance. Their migration could continue, unharmed, without needing to take another single life.

  Once clear of human space, the escort would retreat and allow the Tsyfarians to continue, unaided and unfollowed. They would proceed to their destination, broadcasting their peaceful intent to pass through any inhabited spaces without incident.

  I’d been a part of that. The entire shift in the way a species operates, the safeguarding of two different cultures, parts of it were down to me. I began to truly see why Mom and Dad did what they did with so much of their lives. It hit me hard. I smiled at them, and they returned it, but I think we each had our own reasons for our joy.

  Chapter 43 - Jonah

  THEY RECALLED OUR FLEET from the front lines, a skeleton crew going off to replace us until the next wave of escort crew arrived. I packed the lock boxes again, putting most of our equipment away. We still wore our thinsuits - even Mud, I was pleased to see - but most of the weaponry had gone back into storage. I thought of home. Abruptly I wondered if I’d locked all the doors and laughed at even having the urge to check.

  Hodges came up to me, a big smile on his face. “The Council has, of course, agreed to the plan,” he said, nodding at the three of us, standing on a loading dock. Maybe he didn’t realize our weapons were in easy reach still.

  “Well, we didn’t give them a choice, did we?” I asked him, and I started to turn away. I couldn’t look him in the eye without wanting to shoot him.

  “Jonah,” he said, “you came through for all of humanity once again. I can’t begin to thank you for—”

  “Hodges,” I said coldly, “this entire thing could have been avoided without a shot fired if you’d only thought to talk instead of shooting first.”

  “A fine thing to say given your history,” he sniped back. I felt Shae tense at my side and I put a hand down to hold her off.

  “True enough,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t make it something to be proud of, now does it? Mass death, kidnapping - you did everything wrong from the word go, Hodges. And now, what, you’ll walk out of this with a promotion, smelling of roses?”

  “I understand you hate me, Jonah, but I did what I thought I had to, and everything worked out in the end.”

  He was right. I did hate him. As soon as I got home I would ensure he lost his commission. No point in giving him warning, though. Let him think he would get out of this clean, then destroy him through the channels he so dearly seemed to enjoy falling back on when convenient. And then, maybe, hunt him down and beat him into the ground, just to prove a point. It wasn’t my normal way of dealing, not given what he’d done, but killing him outright seemed pointless.

  “Furthermore,” he continued, “I’ve been asked to offer you your old job back.”

  “I retired, remember?”

  “And we’re asking you to reconsider. Jonah, this wouldn’t have happened with you and your family if you’d stayed. We all know it. Even I know it, all right? It would be a shame to lose you again.”

  “You have to get used to it. Even if I said yes, some day I won’t be here. Then what? Get used to flying solo, Hodges. You need to move the best people up, like Mills. Not keep them down, tied up with protocol.”

  “So help us ensure that happens.”

  “I’m retired.”

  “So that’s it? You’ll go back home and pace like a lion in captivity?”

  “Actually, Shae and I thought,” I said with a grin, “we’d travel. Not for the Government, but for ourselves. See the universe without having to blow it up for a change.”

  “Don’t do this, Jonah. You’ll have full pick of your own crew and support staff. You can even have a liaison with the military of your choice. We need you.”

  “No, you don’t,” I told him, drawing close. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. “But I do know what you need. I’m even willing to help with it.”

  Hodges raised an eyebrow, not sure if I was setting him up. “So you’ll help?”

  “Sort of,” I reared back and head-butted him, spreading his nose across his face like paste. “I’ll help you find a med tech to fix that up.” I kneed him in the gut and dropped him on the floor.

  But his words rang in my head. Would Shae and I ever be happy retired, sitting at home? Probably not. Even touring the galaxy might not work. We could visit the Tsyfarian planet, be the first humans to do so. Tslakog had offered. I didn’t know if it would ever be enough to quench the occasional fire that lay in both our guts. Maybe Hodges was right. Maybe we should sign back up.

  I looked to Shae, as the three of us stood there over Hodges’ whimpering, bleeding form. “Maybe we should discuss this,” I offered. She nodded and we started to walk off, looking for a quiet room to talk.

  Mud stood there, not sure if he should follow or get Hodges help or just leave for his own ship again. “C’mon, kid,” I called out to him, “you’re a part of this discussion, too.”

  He grinned and caught up with us.

  Chapter 44 - Epilogue

  A RADIO CALL WENT OUT. Five communicators flashed a signal. Unsurprisingly to anyone else on the command carrier, they were together, seated at a table, talking and eating. They weren’t elitist or exclusive, but left to their own devices each of them sought the others out.

  At the call, they put down their drinks and cleared the table, rising to leave. Each one went to their own quarters to change. Within fifteen minutes, the five people were walking across the hanger deck. They picked up their conversation from where they’d left it around the table, never missing a beat.

  They walked to a unique ship. Painted black with only a single symbol gracing its lines: five arrows forming an upside-down V. The same symbol each one of the five carried on their thinsuits. Each suit was the same as well: black, with blue coming up along the outer side of the legs, rising until it turned at the waist to slide up their backs and curve over their shoulders, coming back down their chests and ending at the bottom of the ribcage.

  The ship itself was a mix of human and Tsyfarian technology. Engines from the Tsyfarians, giving it more speed than anything else in the sky, trailed down a teardrop body, elongated to hold up to ten
crew rooms. Slim, hidden armor plating along the crew sections and engine compartments allowed them to sleep safely, knowing they could fight off anything they might run across with minimal damage. Weapons gleamed along the clean lines of the hull, looking like they’d grown there. A hybrid of speed and power, the ship was known throughout the fleet as the Arrow.

  The hatchway opened and the pilot climbed on board. Though he wore a thinsuit identical to the others, his Tsyfarian bird helmet still sat proudly over his head. He went directly to his chair and fired up the consoles, putting the engines through pre-flight.

  Behind him came the navigator, a Trasker Four native who’d found he had a gift for keeping up with the data sets needed by the Tsyfarian while in flight. He kept the name he’d earned in the gangs back home, refusing any other call sign.

  Next through the hatchway was the science officer, from Bercuser. He mixed science with his own predictions, carrying with him two jars of fog from his home world so that he could predict both the past and future for the crew of the Arrow as needed.

  The engineer, also from Trasker Four, entered, running her hand along the side of the ship as she did. She loved the Arrow, considered it the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. There was a part of her that wanted to fly the ship some day, but she still couldn’t force herself to sit behind the controls. When she tried, all she saw was her friend, dead, in the seat next to her. She checked the hull integrity and readings from around the ship, sending a green light to the pilot. The Arrow would, as always, fly true.

  Lastly came the leader. He walked slowly, still not sure this was the best choice he could have made, while at the same time knowing his choice was not only right but wonderful. He sat down in his seat and adjusted straps to buckle in. A call came in not long after.

  “It’s Mills,” the voice on the other end of the communications unit said through their earpieces. “You’re cleared for takeoff. Deep Water will escort to the edge of the fleet.”

  “Sounds good to me,” their leader said, reaching down to run his fingers across the butt of the Acadian blaster that hung heavily along his right thigh.