04 Dark Space

by Jasper T. Scott

  “Don’t forget to bring me something.”

  Atton smiled. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Something pretty.”

  Atton laughed, already backing away from his family to enter the hangar bay. “Okay, Atta. Something pretty it is.”

  “Come home safe!” Destra pleaded.

  Atton met his mother’s gaze one last time and nodded. “I will.” Turning to the admiral, he gave a quick salute and said, “Sir.”

  “Make the Imperium proud, Commander.”

  “I will, sir.” And with that, Atton turned and passed his wrist over the door scanner to open the broad double doors of the hangar bay. The doors parted with a swish, and Atton broke into a light jog, angling for the Intrepid’s nearest boarding ramp.

  As he ran, his comm piece buzzed in his ear, and he sent a mental command to answer it.

  “Ortane, what’s taking you?” Master Commander Donali asked. “You’re the only member of the crew who hasn’t reported in yet. Captain Caldin is asking for you.”

  “Sorry, sir. Do you know what the captain wants?”

  “She wants you to come aboard so we can get under way.”

  “Right. I’ll be aboard in five.”

  “Good. One more thing, Ortane—”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’d like a word with you in my office once you’ve reported in. There are a few things the admiral didn’t tell you about where you’re going.”

  Atton frowned as he reached the foot of the boarding ramp. On his way up he passed a pair of load-lifter mechs carrying cold-storage crates full of freeze-dried rations. “If the admiral didn’t tell me, I’m sure it can’t be that important, sir.”

  “He feels the importance of your mission outweighs the risks you’ll be exposed to, but I believe in full disclosure. If this mission is going to succeed, you need to know what you are getting yourself into.”

  Atton was gasping for breath by the time he reached the top of the five-story boarding ramp. He shook his head and walked to one side of the Intrepid’s cargo hold to lean against the bulkhead and rest. “What do you mean? What am I getting myself into?”

  “We’ll discuss that in my office. For now report to the captain, and I’ll see you after we make the jump to SLS, at thirteen hundred.”

  “Yes, sir,” Atton said. He blinked spots from his eyes and set off at a run for the nearest bank of lift tubes. The loud, clanking approach of mechanized footsteps called his attention back to the top of the boarding ramp, and he saw the pair of load-lifters he’d passed on the way up. Turning back to the fore, he was just in time to sidestep another load-lifer on its way out. The pilot shook a mechanical fist at him and yelled in an amplified voice for him to watch where he was going. Atton smiled and waved an apology.

  Then he did run into something. He bounced off and landed on the deck to sit blinking up at nothing but empty space. The air shimmered, and a pair of two-meter-high Gors de-cloaked right in front of him.

  The Gor Atton had run into turned to him, and the glowing red eyes of its helmet seemed to burn a hole straight through his chest. The creature warbled something, and Atton shook his head. “I’m not wearing a translator, sorry.”

  Warble.

  The Gor held out a giant hand. Atton eyed that hand for a long moment before he decided to accept it. The creature’s cold armor closed around his wrist in a vice grip, and then came a sharp jerk on his arm as the Gor yanked him roughly to his feet. He had to bite his lip not to cry out as his shoulder threatened to pop out of its socket.

  “Sorry about that. I didn’t see you there,” Atton said, rubbing his shoulder. The alien turned and walked away without another word, and Atton frowned, thinking back to what he’d told his mother about the safety of this mission. They hadn’t even left Dark Space yet and he’d already cheated death twice—once almost getting crushed by a load-lifter mech and again by almost becoming breakfast for a Gor. Besides that, there was Donali’s ominous warning about his mission being more dangerous than he thought.

  What haven’t you told me, Hoff?

  Chapter 5

  Ethan stood waiting in the hangar of Alara’s parents’ home. He wore a glossy black suit complete with a shiny white crystal flower corsage. Looking down at the glossy petals of that flower, he found it drooping, as if peering down from his breast pocket, getting ready to leap back to the ground from which it had been plucked. Ethan adjusted the corsage so that it could droop from a new angle. Ethan frowned and looked away, deciding not to obsess over it.

  His bride was busy getting ready, leaving him at a loose end. The wedding was set to take place in the Vastras’ garden, all expenses paid generously by Alara’s father. Of course, Ethan didn’t have any family to invite besides his son, who would be unavailable on such short notice, and he didn’t have any friends besides Alara, so the wedding really wasn’t for him. It was just a formality, and a painful one at that. Over the last month he’d spent with Alara’s family while planning the wedding, tensions had been running high. Alara’s father, Dr. Kurlin, disliked him with a passion due to some . . . history they had together, and while Alara’s mother wasn’t against him, she wasn’t really for him either. Both parents were quick to point out Ethan’s shady past. He was an ex-con who’d been exiled to Dark Space before the invasion—a sol-scraping grub, as Kurlin liked to call him.

  A grub. Kurlin would have been hard-pressed to think of a more insulting, pejorative term for his soon to be son-in-law. Why do the rich always try to make the poor feel like krak? They think they’re better because they’re rich, but they’re just lucky; most of them were born into it. Show me a poor man who clawed his way to the top despite all the odds being against him, and there’s a man I’ll look up to.

  Ethan had been struggling to make a living for his loved ones as long as he could remember, and he didn’t need some upper-class snob without so much as a single callus on either of his bony hands to tell him that he wasn’t good enough to marry his daughter.

  Now, the morning of the wedding, Ethan felt like his blood was just about to boil, and he was sorely tempted to go find Dr. Kurlin and break his bony, upturned nose. Ethan let out his frustration in a sigh. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to keep his cool all this time. He couldn’t wait to get away with Alara for their honeymoon. That was the only thing that had kept him sane these past four weeks—the thought of another four spent in a romantic getaway on Karpathia, just the two of them. After that, they could fly off and start their lives together. They’d see her family once or twice a year, and Ethan wouldn’t feel the constant need to murder her father.

  He smiled wryly as he stepped up to the side of his corvette. It was a relatively large ship, and it dwarfed the Vastras’ own transport, taking up the bulk of their hangar. At five stories high and almost 50 meters long, it towered over Ethan, looking like a structure in its own right. Alara wants a home, but she’s already got one—a mobile home with more rooms than most mansions. Granted most of those rooms would have to be converted to extra cargo space, but they would still be left with ample living area.

  A fresh coat of white and blue paint made the ship look clean and new. That had been his side project for the past four weeks—painting their corvette. Alara had convinced her father to let him use the paint they had set aside for the house, and Ethan had bought a heat sealer to protect the substandard paint during re-entry. Now the ship was looking like a real slick devlin. Every time he saw it his chest swelled with pride. It was the same way he felt when he saw Alara. He smirked, wondering if that meant he was in love with his starship. Reaching out to stroke the duranium side of the corvette, he whispered, “Just don’t tell Alara about us. She wouldn’t understand. . . .” He followed the gleaming lines of the ship, walking beside it and looking for imperfections. There weren’t any. The corvette had been given a complete overhaul by the admiral’s greasers, and now she was practically fresh off the stardocks. Ethan stopped walking when he reached
the amidships section of the starship, and then he took a few steps back to get a better look at it as a whole. He stared up at the empty space on the hull where the vessel’s name was meant to go.

  “I haven’t even had a chance to name you yet, have I girl?” Ethan reached up to stroke his chin. “What am I going to call you?” He thought about it for just a moment before the perfect name popped into his head. “How about the Freedom?” Ethan smiled. It was perfect.

  “Freedom from what?” A familiar voice called out, wiping the smile from Ethan’s face. “Not me, I hope.”

  Ethan turned to see Alara standing in the open doorway to the hangar, already wearing her wedding gown. His heart began beating suddenly faster and his grin returned. He gave a long, slow whistle.

  Alara started toward him, the train of her figure-hugging white dress swishing across the floor as she walked. “How do I look?” she asked, stopping just a few paces away from him.

  Ethan shook his head and covered the remaining distance between them in a few quick steps. “Amazing,” he breathed. His hands found her waist and pulled her close, while his lips drifted down to hers.

  She smiled and put a finger to his lips, pushing him away gently. “Not yet.”

  “Right. Hoi, isn’t it bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?”

  “I think it would be bad luck not to see her, don’t you? Might be because she’s making a run for it.”

  Ethan laughed. “Good point.”

  “What are you doing out here? It’s almost time for the ceremony to begin.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I needed to clear my head.”

  Alara’s eyes flicked to the corvette, and she nodded slowly. “I see.”

  “Hoi, not because of you, okay? I was thinking about our fight, and . . . look, Alara . . . I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Alara turned back to him with a faint smile. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to give up your dreams for me.”

  Ethan blinked. “Well . . . apology accepted, I guess.”

  “I’m just scared. Being a freelancer is dangerous work, especially here in Dark Space, and it’s only getting worse now with all the criminals pardoned, and with the Gors taking refuge here, too . . . I don’t want anything to happen to you, Ethan, and I don’t want us to get into debt again just to keep our ship running.”

  “This time it will be different, Kiddie.”

  “What if it isn’t?” Alara’s wide violet eyes searched his, and he felt an echo of her concerns ripple through him as he remembered how they’d struggled to make a go of it with their last ship, the Atton.

  That glimmer of self-doubt blossomed just enough that he was willing to compromise. “I’ll tell you what. Give me six months. If we haven’t managed to make enough money to keep our ship running and save at least 10% of profits for the future, then I’ll sell the ship and take your father up on his offer.”

  Alara’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

  Ethan nodded. “I will.”

  “Six months isn’t much time . . .”

  “It’s enough. You can start counting after the honeymoon.”

  “Either you’re very in love with me, or you’re just that confident in yourself.”

  Ethan grinned. “Why can’t I be both?”

  “Ha ha. All right, it’s a deal, Ethan.”

  “Good. I love you,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips before she could push him away again.

  “I love you, too. . . .” Alara said as they broke apart. She turned away to stare up at their ship, and a faraway look crept into her eyes. “The Freedom . . .” she said, as if trying out the name to see how it sounded.

  “What do you think?”

  “Mmmm . . .”

  “I could always name her after you,” he suggested.

  Alara smiled and shook her head. “What about . . . the Trinity.”

  Ethan frowned and shook his head. “Why Trinity?”

  Alara turned back to him with a hesitant smile. “Well, we’re not going to be just the two of us forever, Ethan.”

  “I know that, but it’s not like we’ve got a baby already.”

  Alara bit her lower lip and her eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure about that?”

  He took an involuntary step back and shook his head. “How . . . I mean . . . never mind. When did you find out?”

  “The day before yesterday. I wanted to tell you, but after you shot down my father’s solution without even a second thought—”

  “Hold on—Kurlin knows?”

  Alara gave a tremulous smile. “My mother does, too.”

  “I can’t believe this. You told your parents before me!”

  “I had to talk to someone!”

  Ethan sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose until it felt like it was about to break. “You should have come to me first. What made you think you couldn’t talk to me about it?”

  Alara gestured to their ship. “That did. You just spent a whole month giving her a fresh coat of paint. It’s all you could talk about—how we’re going to have such a great time piloting her together. I didn’t know how to tell you that your dreams were about to take a sudden turn in a different direction. You can’t raise a child on a starship, Ethan.”

  “Why not?” he shook his head. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Do you remember how many missions we took that went sour before we could even get paid? I remember at least a half a dozen where we ended up working for some offshoot of Brondi’s organization without even knowing it. We carried more contraband than legitimate cargo, and we waltzed through at least a dozen pirate bases to make our deliveries.”

  Ethan frowned. “It’s not our fault if they don’t tell us what’s really in the cargo crates.”

  “No, it’s not our fault, Ethan, but who are you going to blame when outlaws hold your family ransom for a shipment that got confiscated by an ISSF patrol? It’s not going to matter whose fault it is. It’ll be yours for not listening to your wife and finding a safer job.”

  “Look, I’ll make sure we only take jobs with the Freelancers’ Guild, and we’ll check the cargo ourselves before we agree to move it anywhere. We have a much bigger ship this time, so we’ll qualify for regular trade runs, not just courier.”

  “So how’s that any different from being a freighter pilot for the agri corps?”

  Ethan sighed and pressed two knuckled fists to his temples as if to beat away the encroaching headache he felt pulsing there. “Trust me it is. We can’t run from the Sythians in an agri corps’ freighter.”

  “Okay,” Alara said in a small voice. She reached up and pulled his fists away from his temples. “Look, I don’t want to fight on our wedding day.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Neither do I.”

  “Good. So, let’s be thankful for what we have and not worry too much about the future just yet.”

  Ethan let out his anxiety and frustration with a shaky sigh. “All right.” Suddenly he understood Alara’s change of heart about freelancing together. He glanced back over his shoulder and this time he winced to see his freshly-painted corvette. Something told him it wasn’t going to be his much longer. “The Trinity it is,” he said, nodding to himself.

  “Six months, Ethan. Prove to me that this is a safe move for us, that we can stay out of trouble and make a living while we’re at it.”

  “I will,” Ethan said, turning back to her. He found her hand in his and squeezed it tight.

  Alara smiled and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. “I believe you,” she said, reaching up to smooth away the wrinkles on his forehead. “Now, come on, the future’s waiting for us.”

  Ethan let her lead him away by the hand. They walked to the other side of the hangar and through a pair of doors to find both Kurlin and Darla Vastra waiting for them in the hall.

  “What took you so long?” Kurlin demanded, his gaunt features making him look sinister in the low light of the corridor.

  Alara smiled and answere
d for both of them. “I told him.”

  “Oh, darling!” Darla exclaimed, her eyes skipping from Alara to Ethan. “How do you feel? You’re going to be a father, Ethan.”

  “I already am a father,” he said.

  Kurlin frowned. “Yes, well, let’s hope that this time you’re around to raise your child. Perhaps you’d like to reconsider my offer.”

  Ethan turned to the old man with a frown, but Alara answered before he could.

  “Actually, Father, we’ve agreed to give freelancing one last try before we sell the ship.”

  “I see. That was the grub’s idea, I presume.”

  “Father!”

  “What? Being a grub is nothing to be ashamed of, not if you recognize it and do what you can to change your lot in life.” Kurlin turned to Ethan with a thin smile. “You don’t have to struggle. Sell your ship and you’ll have enough to buy a home—cash. After that you can get any old job to pay the bills. You’ll be better off than almost anyone.”

  “And when the Sythians return, we’ll be just as dead.”

  Kurlin snorted. “I’m afraid if the Sythians come back to finish us, it won’t matter how far you run, it will never be far enough. The admiral understands that, which is why he hasn’t ordered an evacuation of the sector. Where would we go that they won’t find us?”

  “Can we not talk about this now?” Alara said, her eyes smoldering with barely contained fury. “It’s our wedding day, not a time to discuss the end of the human race.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re right, my dear. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “And one more thing—Ethan and I have already made up our minds.”

  “But, Alara . . .” her mother began.

  “No buts. It’s our decision.”

  “Be sure that it’s not your mistake,” Kurlin said.

  “Your concern is duly noted,” Alara replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe the guests are waiting for us in the garden. I’ll see you both there.”

  Ethan shot Kurlin a smirking look as they walked by. Kurlin glared back. Ethan and Alara turned a corner and passed through an open door into her father’s library. “Where did that come from?” he breathed as soon as they were out of earshot.