Overwhelmed when she stepped off the lift, Da’Mira studied the main deck and took a deep breath trying to ease her nerves. She’d been on Requiem before but not since she was a small child.
Command and control was atop a raised platform. Da’Mira and My Own walked up a spiral staircase that spun around the outside of the large podium. The glass dome above the control center looked out into space, if she didn’t know better Da’Mira would have thought there was no glass between her and the open vastness. My Own reached over and took hold of Da’Mira’s arms with her icy hands.
Work stations lined the perimeter of the deck, Da’Mira couldn’t count the workers or their stations; there were so many. Behind one of the work stations Da’Mira spotted Captain William Kevka, a tall weathered man in his late forties, with neatly combed gray hair. His pressed, tan command uniform had the single red rose sigil of the family Tannador on the breast.
“Milady,” Kevka said, his tone mixed with surprise and concern. “I didn’t realize you were coming to command and control.” His fuchsia eyes riddled with worry. He stood nervous, moving his weight from one foot to the next.
Aware of the captain’s strange behavior, Da’Mira asked, “Why is that captain?” she gave him a slight smile trying to relieve his worry. It only seemed to rattle him more.
Kevka cleared his throat, and with a tense voice, said, “Forgive me, Milady … your brother never – he never came to the C and C.”
That revelation didn’t surprise her. Giving her voice a soft silky lilt, Da’Mira said, “I understand, Captain Kevka. Let’s make one thing clear, I am not my brother. I am master of this vessel and I am eager to familiarize myself with Requiem and what we do while… exploring.”
Da’Mira couldn’t tell from the captain’s expression if he liked her being involved or if he tolerated it because of her rank. Again, he cleared his throat and stumbled over his next few words. “I under… how can I… where should I begin.”
Da’Mira kept her voice, calm steady and pleasing, said, “Don’t worry, captain. I don’t mean to take command from you. But since I will be on this ship for a long stay I want to be involved, learn what I can. You command everyone on this ship – everyone but me and my personal staff.” She gestured toward My Own.
William breathed easier. He steadied his footing, and even his skin color brightened a little. “How can I help you, Milady?”
Da’Mira looked about the rows and rows of work stations and caught the crew glancing up at her. Their eyes held the same animosity that the slaves did. Curious she walked toward the closest station and looked down at the technician.
The pale-skin young man rolled his dark outlined eyes up and saw Da’Mira looking down at him. The man looked exhausted and malnourished. He lowered his head back to the hologram control panel in front of him and nervously ran his hands across the controls.
“What is your name?”
The thin man looked back up. “Kel,” he said in a weak voice and then he looked back to his controls.
Astounded, Da’Mira turned back to Kevka with furrowed brow. In a darker voice, she said, “He’s afraid to speak. Why?”
“They are servants. They aren’t used to being approached by a… a high-born.”
“When did they become servants? They were hired to do a job. What is their rate of compensation?”
“They are given a chance to see the galaxy, to get away from Earth. They have food to eat and beds to sleep on. I assure you Milady they are better off here than they were on Earth.”
Da’Mira always thought the crew of Requiem was low-born hired to operate the ship, paid a fair wage for fair work. No wonder productivity was at such an all-time low. Da’Mira considered her brother to be inept in such matters. Now she knew otherwise. “Servant is another word for slave, captain,” Da’Mira fumed and walked toward the staircase. Members of the crew turned and glanced at her. Some grinned while others only looked at her with blank expressions.
“I assure you Milady they have a choice to be here or not,” Kevka’s voice trailed behind her.
Da’Mira turned around. Her cheekbones hardened and her eyes narrow, she growled, “These are not free people either, captain. I’m not sure how they got on board this ship, but I’ll wager they were railroaded… a lot like me.”
Kevka’s stance and posture changed. For the first time he showed some bravado. He stepped up to Da’Mira and said with a nervous, yet assured tone, “If I have offended you, Milady, I am sorry. I’m simply doing my job.”
Da’Mira calmed herself when she saw the sincerity in Kevka’s eyes. She cleared her throat and spoke again, this time with a softer less callous sound. “Your job parameters are about to change. Where is your office?”
Kevka stiffened his neck. His thick hair ruffled like a peacock’s feathers and he said, “Under this platform Milady.”
Da’Mira’s hardened gaze lightened. She knew Kevka followed orders. In a way he was as much a slave as anyone on Requiem, including her. “Take me there. We have much to discuss.”
Kevka pointed to the stairwell and led the way.
Da’Mira stopped My Own before she followed the captain and said, “I want you to stay up here. Observe, talk to the crew, see what you can learn from them.”
My Own’s eyes widened. “Yes, I can do that,” she said with a surprised tone.
“I’ll be back to get you when I’m finished with the captain.”
Da’Mira sat in a hard, uncomfortable chair near Captain Kevka’s cluttered desk. The small office wasn’t elaborate or filled with expensive things though Da’Mira noticed some artifacts sitting around the office, trinkets that looked like broken pottery, ceremonial masks, and bits of crystal that caught her eye. From the evidence, William Kevka didn’t receive payment either or very little.
Kevka sat uncomfortable in a seat near Da’Mira. “What were you wishing to discuss with me, Milady?” he asked. “I assure you I have done my best for the family since my commission.”
Da’Mira’s lips thinned and smiled. She drew a breath, and said, “You have done much since you took command. I can tell by your demeanor you aren’t used to having visitors in your office.”
Kevka cleared his throat, and replied, “I rarely saw Lord Tannador on his travels with us. He gave me free command of the ship.”
“As do I, captain,” Da’Mira reassured him. “My changes aboard ship will not alter your job at all.”
“I see,” Kevka said cautiously.
“My alterations are dealing with the crew.”
“In what way, Milady?”
“Each member of the crew will receive five percent from the total bounty once the monetary figures are worked out on this expedition.”
“I’m afraid your father might not like that Milady.”
“Perhaps captain, but for now that is how we will go about it. Your crew, at least the ones I have seen, need an incentive to work harder, find more wealth for the family Tannador and increase this family’s profit.” Da’Mira couldn’t believe how she sounded like her father. Many times, she heard him tell her that by increasing productivity and sharing in the wealth, the family will be rewarded with more power and status. Though she took a long time to figure it out, Da’Mira hoped by raising her approval with her father she might help the breeders and slaves.
Kevka’s forehead tightened, and he said, “There is one other detail I didn’t want to mention on the command deck.”
Da’Mira gave him a nod to continue.
“We have been receiving a recall signal from Earth.”
“From my father?” Da’Mira asked surprised.
“No – from the Union.”
Da’Mira sat back in the uncomfortable chair and closed her eyes. Something had gone wrong on Earth. If the Union was calling for their return, that meant her father was unable to convince them that she had no part of the destruction of the breeding facility. If she turned the ship around she could be heading into trouble. Hek’Dara said it would
either be him or Quintin calling her back to Earth. Since the recall didn’t come from them, there was only one option to her. Da’Mira drew a calming breath and opened her eyes.
“I assume we will ignore it?”
“You assumed correctly, captain,” Da’Mira said.
“I point this out, Milady because sooner or later we might see another exploration ship trying to jump our claim on Kepler 369.”
“We’ll worry about that, when, and if the time arrives.”
“I’m not a first-year out here on a run, Milady. They will come. And when they do, we might have some problems. I don’t foresee hostilities… but I wouldn’t dismiss it so easily.”
Da’Mira ignored Kevka’s warning and scanned her eyes over the relics scattered around the office. “Where did you get these?” she asked and pointed at the artifacts.
“I’m sorry, what Milady?”
“The artifacts, where did you get them?”
“The professor… Charles Long, down in the archeology department… lower, lower levels,” he said, the tension in his voice hesitant to give out the information.
Da’Mira stood, pressing her palms on Kevka’s desk, she leaned forward, but withdrew her hands when she felt something sticky on the surface. She grimaced and said, “Calm yourself, captain. Look at it this way. If Requiem delivers more productivity, then you will profit from the increased wealth. It’s a win for you no matter what.”
Kevka stood from the chair. His expression lightened, and eyes sparkled before saying, “I see your point.”
“Good,” Da’Mira said. She didn’t blame Kevka for his lack of enthusiasm. Having her brother as ship master put him into a stagnate mindset. She liked to shake things up. “One more thing. How long before we jump back into a wormhole?”
“Within the hour, Milady.”
“Good. I think a dinner party might be appropriate once we are in flight. To celebrate my appointment as ship master and give me a chance to meet your command crew. I want extra food rations given to your entire crew. Wouldn’t you say that’s a good idea?”
“I will have the kitchen begin preparation at once and make sure the entire crew is taken care of miss.”
Da’Mira smiled, and asked, “Now, tell me captain. How do I get to the archeology department?”
Dalnaspidal, Scotland – the Highlander Encampment
April 18, 2442
“Tell me how it happened,” Lonnie Gibson asked.
“I wish I could,” Colin replied. His breath froze in the spring morning air. He stared at the body of his dead friend. Lost in the events from the previous night, he tried to figure out what went wrong. How the events transpired that led to the death of his lifelong friend Shane Gibson.
Wrapped in a dingy white cloth, Shane’s body laid atop a funeral pyre silent and still. No matter how hard Colin tried to remember the events from last night, all he saw were the hollow eyes of Shane’s widow, Lonnie, staring at him.
“I always said you’d be the death of him.”
Colin winced, his voice shaky he said, “And you were right – goddamn, you were right.” He saw the torchlight coming from the encampment and the outline of the people standing in silhouette against the light. Even though he couldn’t see their faces he could hear their whispers. All blame fell on him, and so it should.
Lonnie could no longer contain her grief. Her deep green eyes swelled with tears and she tore at Colin, clutching his tunic and tearing her fingernails into him, screaming, “Why Colin, why would you do something like this?”
“All I thought about was getting my sister back. He promised, Avery Lexor promised me!”
Lonnie shoved Colin away and spat on the ground, her voice rough and callous, she said, “The promise of a high-born is like smoke on the wind, Colin, you know that.”
Colin took a deep breath. He thought of his sister. He never thought of the consequences. Holding back tears of his own, he said, “I found myself blinded by the idea.”
Lonnie wiped the tears from her face. Her eyes had grown dark, and her lips curled up into a hateful sneer, and said, “You know what the funny thing is, Colin? At no time since you brought my husband home have you said that you’re sorry.”
“I thought the words would be meaningless.”
“Anything you say will be meaningless, Colin McGregor,” Lonnie said sharply. “You’ve lived your whole life refusing to apologize to anyone, to your father, your sister, your best friend and now me.” Her tears flowed – a deep remorseful growl gathered in her throat.
“And to his clan chieftain,” Darmon Hill said as he appeared out of the morning shadows.
“Not now, snake,” Colin said through gritted teeth.
In a bold move, Darmon took a step toward Colin and shoved a finger toward him, his sniveling voice wicked, he said, “When you speak to me in such a tone you speak to Lord Langland in the same respect.”
“Fuck you, Darmon – and our clan chieftain.”
“Colin, have respect for the dead – for my husband,” Lonnie snapped.
“The last time we just flogged you, McGregor. This time the price will be much higher.”
Colin charged toward Darmon, who took a step back, terror engulfed his eyes, in a frightened tone, he warned, “If… if you attack me I’ll make sure…”
“You’ll do what?” Colin reached for his broadsword but stopped. He remembered Shane’s body lying behind him. He let go of the hilt and stepped back.
“I thought you would see it my way,” Darmon said and pointed at Shane’s body. “Get this done. You are expected to be in Lord Langland’s tent after. Don’t make me send for you.”
Colin turned back to the pyre. “I’m sorry.”
“Who are you saying that to, me or him?” Lonnie asked.
“Whoever will accept it –”
“Then it will have to be the dead because I will never forgive you, Colin McGregor – never.” Lonnie picked up a burning torch and tossed it into the kindling under her husband. The arid wood sparked, and the fire spread under Shane. In less than a minute the flames raised so high that his body could no longer be seen.
Lonnie stood in the glow of amber, surrounded by family members who joined her in prayer and grief, while Colin McGregor backed away into the night.
Colin didn’t stay and watch the fire do its job. He allowed Lonnie to have that final moment with her husband alone. He knew the time had come for him to go. Colin always knew sooner or later he would strike out on his own. He knew it would be better for everyone if he left.
He returned to his tent and glanced over his shoulder one last time. He watched the orange-yellow hue of the fire in the distance consume his best friend. Inside the tent he filled a bed roll with clothes and other things he would need out on the open plains. He hung a compass around his neck and strapped a knife to his left leg. When he picked up a deer skin jacket from the bed, the signaling device given to him from Avery Lexor fell to the floor.
Colin stared at it for a moment and then picked it up. He sat on the side of the bed and after much deliberation he pressed the call button. “Hello.” He waited but no reply followed. He tried again and waited. Then the call device came alive with Avery’s voice.
“Colin is that you?”
“My sister… do you have my sister?”
“Can we meet?” Avery asked in a cryptic tone.
Confused Colin asked again, “Do you have my sister?”
“I’ll meet you at the usual place… come quickly.”
The device went quiet. Colin tossed it to the floor. Rolled up his bedding and flung it over his shoulder. He’d grown use to the pain from the open wounds on his back and paid them no mind.
Outside the tent Colin found Darmon Hill and seven warriors waiting for him. “You waste little time,” Colin said – his stance rigid and ready for a fight.
“Lord Langland doesn’t want to be disappointed,” Darmon said.
“You like throwing around his name a lot don’t y
ou, snake? You have enough men here to help. I see he recruited you Locklorn, you here to give me another flogging?”
Locklorn lowered his head. An intimidating man, at six foot four inches, his broad shoulders, massive hands and tree trunk sized legs would make anyone second guess a fight with him. If truth be known, there was no man more loyal than Locklorn DeGray. “Colin… I –”
“Be quiet, Locklorn,” Darmon snapped. “Are you coming along of your own volition or are these men going to help you?”
“You know, snake, I’ve had all I’m going to take of you. These men here know what I’m capable of in a fight.”
Darmon smirked. “Even you can’t fight seven men McGregor.”
Colin hardened his stance. “Maybe – maybe not. Whatever the outcome, you’ll be the first one dead. You can count on that.”
“You dare threaten me and Lord Langland?”
“Enough,” Locklorn said with a sharp growl. “We’ve all had enough of you using our lord’s name for your own gains, Darmon. Go, Colin, find your sister.”
The other six Highlanders stabbed the dirt with their swords and stepped back away from them.
Darmon turned toward Locklorn and slapped him across his broad chest with an open hand. “You oversized oaf. Who gave you the right to speak for James Stewart Langland? I should have the whip put to you. I…”
Locklorn pulled the dagger from his belt and shoved it into Darmon’s belly with a thrust that lifted the sable-skin man up off the ground. Blood splattered all over his hand. Darmon’s lifeless body fell to Colin’s feet. Each man in the group, including Colin took turns spitting on the corpse.
“There’s going to be hell to pay for this. What will you do?”
Locklorn pulled his knife out of Darmon’s belly, wiped the blood on Darmon’s clothes and said, “Nothing. As far as Lord Langland is concerned, Colin, you killed him.”
Origin Expedition Page 18
