by Sean Allen
“Lights, three-quarters. Aye.” The response had come from one of the Noris, but neither Otto nor the others could tell which one. A soft glow brightened the room, and Otto examined the creature that stood before him.
Admiral Rilek was not what Otto, or the others for that matter, had expected. When he heard mention of the old sailor and his renowned exploits, he pictured an old, battle-worn commander as tough and gritty as any Dissension soldier who served in the ranks; a fearless leader with eyes that flashed with brilliance and a voice as hard as rock. Otto had rather expected someone who looked like Booktu and sounded like Sergeant Graale—except, perhaps with gray hair or fur—to be wearing the admiral’s hat. Instead, Rilek peered at them through black eyes ringed with haunting discs of iridescent gold. His piercing gaze missed nothing as his head tilted eerily from one side to the other while his eyes darted back and forth over each of them, examining his new guests. Otto had never seen anything like Rilek before, and the little voice laughed at him as he flushed with embarrassment for judging Booktu and the Noris’ reactions to seeing Malo for the first time. Rilek’s hooked nose protruded from beneath his eyes and ended in an unnaturally sharp point. His small mouth was almost imperceptible and he had no ears that Otto could see unless they were hiding under his hat. The rest of him was unremarkable. He was about a foot taller than Otto with a medium build but his unique looks and commanding gaze made it seem as if he filled the entire room. The only thing Otto had guessed right was his fur—sort of. Rilek’s neck and hands were gray in color but they were covered with neither hair nor fur. Instead, they were coated with feathers. His head was adorned in a similar fashion beneath his hat except for streaks of white that trailed from the outer edges of his eyes like fiery comet tails. A similar patch of white adorned his neck and traveled downward to the top of his chest before disappearing beneath his shirt and vest.
Otto didn’t know how long he and the others stood there gaping at the admiral, but when he came to his senses, he realized that Rilek still hoisted his hand just above his golden-ringed eye. He quickly returned the salute and held it there, and he hoped that Malo was striking a similar pose.
“At ease, gentlemen. As you know, the Lodestar is an undercover ship for the Dissension—indefinitely. As long as we are needed to fight the Durax, my fleet and its sailors will always be at your service. But, since we are undercover, this will be the last time I, or any of my crew, will salute. I wanted to extend the courtesy to you, Major,” he said while tilting his head to one side and looking at Otto, “and you, Lieutenant.” He tilted his head to the opposite side and gazed at Malo for a noticeably longer period of time before shifting his stare back to Otto. “As long as you are aboard the Lodestar, or any of my fleet, I would ask that you dispense with the formal traditions of the Dissension Army and consider yourselves runners. It will help preserve our usefulness if we aren’t identified directly with the Dissension. I hope you won’t mind,” Rilek said, shifting his scrutinizing eyes to Blink, “but I understand you don’t consider yourself a military man to begin with.”
Rilek paused and waited for a response from the little doctor, but none came. Otto noticed that Blink’s hand had the slightest of tremors and he was fidgeting nervously with his glasses.
“N-n-no, sir. I don’t mind,” Blink stuttered as he struggled to meet Rilek’s eyes. The mysterious admiral tilted his head to the opposite side but kept Blink fixed in his sights as he slowly advanced. He sidestepped Otto, who had to turn to continue watching the exchange.
“Well then, doctor, if you don’t salute as a military man, I will offer you a sailor’s greeting,” he said earnestly as he extended his right hand. His arm hovered in the air and Otto became alarmed as the quivering in Blink’s hand spread to his entire body, and Rilek’s outstretched arm floated in the air, awaiting Blink’s embrace.
“Doctor Blink has had quite an ordeal escaping from the Berzerkers at the mine base,” Otto said quickly as he stepped between them and placed his hand on Blink’s trembling shoulder. “He went above his call of duty and saved my life, which I will be eternally grateful for, but I’m afraid all of the action has left him a little…rattled.”
“Of course, I understand,” Rilek said flatly. His outstretched arm continued to hover momentarily before returning to his side. “I think now would be the appropriate time to introduce the rest of my crew. You’ve met Ensign Nori.” Otto was hopeful that he would learn both of their names and perhaps a secret to telling the twins apart, but Rilek continued.
“He is our sonar operator and navigator and he is the helmsman,” Rilek said as he motioned in the general direction of both men. The Noris continued to befuddle Otto by acknowledging Rilek’s words with a synchronized nod before turning back to their duties. “And Booktu, as you already know, is first mate aboard the Lodestar and the best gunner I’ve ever known to sail sea, sky or stars.” In a gesture completely out of character with his rough and tumble looks, Booktu turned to face them, waved his hand in an elegant flourish and bowed slightly.
“Now that makes sense,” Otto thought to himself, “he looks like he’d be a good gunner.”
“Behind you is Doctor Symia Weiloonyu, but she prefers either Doctor or Mia.”
Otto turned away from Rilek to find Malo and Blink staring at the figure who had appeared suddenly and silently just inside the heavy door to their rear. She was mesmerizing and Otto immediately found himself curiously fixated on her too. Her radiant eyes were a purple-blue color that flashed at them from behind high, sharp cheekbones. Her nose, wide and flat, had two small folds of skin on either side of a miniscule ridge that opened and closed gently in time with her breath, all perched perfectly above burgundy lips that parted in a warm, hospitable smile.
Her eyes met each one of them as she prepared to speak. “Greetings, gentlemen. I would assume by my introduction you’ve figured out that I’m the ship’s doctor.” She paused a moment to let her words drift through the bridge and sink into the newcomers. “And I have the final say on all medical issues aboard the Lodestar—no exceptions.” Her tone was deliberate and she raised an eyebrow at Blink for emphasis. The poor little doctor had the appearance of a wounded animal caught between two stalking predators, and Otto wondered if he might be suffering from some sort of post-traumatic breakdown. He decided it would be best if Blink received some medical attention now there was another doctor around, but before he could make a recommendation, Rilek beat him to it.
“Mia, I’m going to suggest that Doctor Blink accompany you to the infirmary. Keep an eye on him, won’t you?”
“Yes, admiral,” she said affably as she nodded her head. She hooked her slender hand into the crook of Blink’s arm and gently turned him back toward the large door with the wheel-lock.
“I could use some assistance on some cultures I’m preparing, doctor. Would you mind lending me a hand?”
“N-n-no, no, my dear, quite the contrary. It would help take my mind off recent events if I could be of some scientific use. Thank you.”
“That sounds more like Blink,” Otto thought to himself as he unintentionally let out a sigh of semi-relief. If Rilek noticed, he didn’t let on in any way; his gaze was fixed on the two doctors as they walked slowly over the threshold and disappeared behind the door. He continued to stare at the wheel-lock as it turned and ground to a halt with a metallic squeak. Otto decided to break the awkward silence.
“Is this the entire crew? The ship seems so…”
“Big? Empty?” Rilek questioned as a proud smirk curled his small mouth. “For all of its…well-worn outward appearances, the Lodestar is quite state-of-the art. Although big, she can outrun and outmaneuver most fighters half her size. Her navigation and weapons systems make it possible to sail with a light crew and that’s exactly how I prefer it. Each one of my men, the doctor included, has on countless occasions stood by me and this ship through the most dangerous of missions. I would trust each one of them with my life and that becomes more difficult wit
h a larger crew. I did fail to mention one other crewman, however. Kriegel, my chief engineer. Unless you wind up spending time in the engine room, it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet him in person. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen him in over two months. He keeps to the engines and rarely ventures out unless under orders.”
“I don’t understand,” Otto interjected. “Why so much effort on the systems and the interior and so little…” Otto trailed off not quite knowing if his line of questioning would offend the admiral.
“Why does she look like hammered hell on the outside?” Rilek chuckled. “Well, for starters, she’s seen more action than any ship in the universe; but more important, she’s inconspicuous. Hardly anyone would suspect a rusted out relic to pack the speed or firepower of this old girl and I like to take my enemies by surprise.
“Now gentlemen, if you don’t mind, let’s get down to business and discuss how we’re going to track down The Ghost.”
“We were hoping you might know something with all your experience as a runner,” Otto said hopefully.
“Unfortunately, The Ghost lives up to his name. This is the first time in three years I’ve heard even a theory about his identity, and let me say that being a Mewlatai seems to fit very well.” Rilek tried not to sound too foreboding but failed miserably and Otto swallowed hard.
“The Ghost hasn’t lost a run since he appeared three years ago. We’ve been head-to-head more times than I can remember and he always edges us out. He’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen in my travels,” he said with a concerned look.
“What’s wrong, Admiral?” Otto asked.
“I would say that almost all the pieces fit except…”
“What? Except what?”
“Except for the fact that The Ghost behaves more like a real Mewlatai than a rogue bent on murder and destruction.”
Otto looked at Rilek, his eyes urging him to go on.
“More often than not, the Lodestar ends up being The Ghost’s only competitor in a run. Now, runners have a code—a set of unwritten rules—that outline which tactics are acceptable, which are disputable, and which are completely intolerable. The Ghost flies with absolute honor, never once flirting with even questionable maneuvers to win a run. He depends on his ship and his skills as a pilot alone.” Rilek stared past Otto and Malo in a trance as he pondered the implications of his own words.
“That’s exactly why we need to track him down,” Otto said emphatically. “We have no idea if this is all part of some master plan or if he just happened to snap all of a sudden, but The Ghost is the strongest lead we have for this murdering Mewlatai bastard and the situation couldn’t be more dire. I don’t have to explain to you what happens if this Mewlatai undermines the Serum—we won’t be able to find recruits to take up the fight and replenish our ranks. The Durax will win and their black grip will strangle out every last bit of life in the universe until there’s nothing left but pain and death.”
“Of course, you are right, Major,” Rilek said as his frown straightened until his face had its usual unreadable expression again.
“Since this is your area of expertise, Admiral, I’ll leave the particulars to you. What’s the plan?”
“The race should be close—it always is. I’ve enlisted Captain Saraunt and the Maelstrom to cover us from any other runners that may try to dissuade us from staying in the front of the pack. Even if it’s possible to win—which I admit, I would like to do just once before he’s gone—we’ll concede victory to The Ghost and let him unload in Thulabane. If we can keep it close, our ships should be unloaded at parallel docks. I have a man who has been infiltrating the ringers for over a year and has worked his way up to the freight crew. He’ll be waiting in Thulabane on Enor to unload The Ghost’s cargo. He’ll plant a bug on the Zebulon and we’ll follow from there.”
“You don’t think someone as dangerous and mysterious as The Ghost has a tracker scan program aboard his ship?” Otto asked skeptically.
“Actually, Major, I’m counting on it,” he said curtly and Otto was confused again. He began to protest but Rilek cut him off with the steel in his voice.
“Now, gentlemen, this is of the utmost importance. No one, and I mean no one, is to leave this ship alone. If we go on-world, we’ll maintain numerical superiority over our enemy. The Lodestar has far more armor and firepower than a Zebulon, and as long as there aren’t more of them out there lying in wait, we’ll be safe within the hull of this ship. I would prefer to track our enemy after the run and surveil him from a distance—gathering enough evidence to identify him as Malo’s attacker—”
“And murderer of fish man,” Malo interrupted with contempt.
“Once we know for sure,” Rilek continued, “we can call for reinforcements. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Otto said with relief. He doubted fifty soldiers would stand a chance against the Mewlatai that killed Talfus and mangled Malo, but he felt better knowing that the plan was to keep their distance.
Malo simply snorted in acknowledgment, although Otto could tell he did so reluctantly. The Moxen now lived for only two things—to kill the Mewlatai traitor and to return Talfus to his home planet of Waadi. He knew fate would give him his chance; he just needed to be patient.
“Very good,” Rilek said.
The bridge fell silent as each man retreated into his own thoughts. The only sounds present were beeps and pings from the navigational system as it held the Lodestar in orbit around the last of three moons in the Trinity Straits.
“Now, gentlemen, let’s pick up our cargo and hunt down our Mewlatai.”
Otto inhaled sharply, an automatic ritual his body practiced at the beginning of a dangerous feat. Malo simply snorted—more enthusiastically this time—at moving one step closer to his destiny.
“Navigation, set course for Luxon.”
“Luxon. Aye, Admiral,” the Noris replied together.
“And Ensign, I think I’ll take the helm until further notice. You can go back for now.”
The Nori at the helm backed away from the large, wooden wheel and inclined his head slightly toward Rilek. Otto and Malo watched with interest as he walked slowly past them and approached his twin at the navigation controls. Otto wondered where he was going back to—he guessed it must be another part of the ship, as all the duties on the bridge seemed to be easily taken care of by Rilek, Booktu, and the other Nori. His jaw slackened as the passing ensign turned one hundred and eighty degrees and took large, awkward strides backward, still moving in the direction of his brother, who was completely absorbed carrying out the change of course.
Otto and Malo watched in puzzlement as if time had reversed course around Nori the helmsman and they were captive witnesses to its peculiar distortion. Step by step the two Nori became closer and closer, but Nori the sonar operator continued to open and close valves, push buttons, and lift levers in front of him as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on just a few feet behind him. At the very last moment, he turned around just as his twin was about to back into him.
There was a flash of red light the same color as the Noris’ eyes, and the outline of their bodies blurred. For a few moments, it was impossible to tell where one started and the other began as legs were absorbed by legs and torso and arms melded into torso and arms. But the disarranged boundaries of the form slowly solidified until finally, Ensign Nori stood alone.
He looked at the awestruck Dissenters and winked his big, red eye, which had glints of purple from the blue glow of the navigation controls. Booktu, who had no doubt seen the display countless times, simply laughed quietly to himself until his heavy body shook with amusement.
Otto finally understood the lack of distinguishing names or marks. He looked at Malo, who was standing stone still, peering through huge saucer-like eyes, and Otto raised both of his furry brows.
Rilek depressed the button for the holodex and waited for the tone.
“Engines—full power,” he said into the small, metal box.
“Full power, aye,” a scratchy voice croaked back.
The admiral grasped a large, silver handle with an elaborate carving of a sinewy creature, complete with scales and flowing mane, coiled around its length. As he pulled the lever smoothly back to its stops, Rilek turned over his shoulder.
“You may want to brace yourselves for”
The roar of the engines drowned the end of Rilek’s warning, and Otto was tumbling toward the back of the room before he could reach out to the nearest permanent fixture for support. He hit the back wall with a thud right next to Malo, who was snorting angrily. Both men stood up and braced themselves against the clear panes as the acceleration of the Lodestar pulled at their bodies. The sounds of the bridge faded into the background, replaced by the serene rumble of the motors. Both Ensign Nori and Booktu remained unfazed by the tremendous torque of the old girl, and they stood as solid as before the ship’s engines roared to life. Rilek stood stone still at the helm in the center of the conning tower, grasping the large wheel with feathery hands as the stars flitted past them, each one a marker, ticking out their approach toward certain danger.
Chapter 21: Half Truth
“’ello, luv,” Simon said in his carefree manner, as if he wasn’t addressing his captain. “All’s right with the universe and we should be arrivin’ in the Trinity Straits within the hour.”
“Thanks, Simon,” Dezmara said as she paused between blows to the heavy bag swaying on its chain in front of her. The Zebulon was relatively small and had only six rooms: quarters for both Dezmara and Simon, the cockpit, engine room, infirmary, and training room. The latter was where Dezmara spent most of her time when she wasn’t at the helm. She rarely slept and training helped her focus on something other than who or what she was and where she came from.
She leapt off the ground, twisting lithely in the air, and struck the bag with a powerful kick. Her bare feet landed quietly on the padded floor as her hands came up to guard her torso and face before the entire move was repeated with her opposite side. The blow left a noticeable indentation in the bag, and she stared silently at the depression as it swung away from her. Dezmara noticed that Simon was still standing in the doorway and waited for him to say what was on his mind.
