Invasion

by L. E. Thomas

  "It doesn't matter now." He shrugged. "My advancement was slow and true, but it happened. I was promoted through sheer perseverance. I wanted to lead troops into battle since I could remember. I trained for it, went to the Academy, and eventually helped the Zahl spread their light to three different worlds in my career. It has been my life's greatest accomplishment."

  His fury subsiding, Nat leaned forward. "Do you have any regrets? I mean, about leaving your ... past behind."

  "None," he said without delay. "Look forward, Lieutenant. Always forward. Look backward for too long, and you'll crash." He smiled. "Good piloting lesson there, too."

  Nat grinned. "I suppose so."

  "Look," Tox said, "Command was probably never going to let you or any of the other cadets near fighter school. Not yet, anyway. Even with the pilot shortage, the local rebellion is simply still too close, too vivid in memory. And given your interesting ... connection to it all didn't help matters, either."

  He winced. Tox hadn't mentioned the capture on The Beast in months. He had thought the memories of his brief interrogation with the fading resistance had been forgotten. Apparently, he was wrong.

  "How does one shake off the past, Captain?"

  "Through hard work and being stubborn. Politics can be helpful, too. The Empire is a collection of people trying to spread law and order throughout the galaxy, but they are people. It takes time to forget a conflict. Both sides did terrible things in the name of what they believed. People died. The wounds will heal. You are part of this world's first class. You'll be a damned good officer. The Empire is fortunate to have you, Hodges."

  "Thank you, sir." He took a deep breath. "So, you think I'll be able to fly an Interceptor one day?"

  "I believe anything is possible. With the work you did at the Academy, I'm sure you have great things in your future."

  "I appreciate it, sir."

  An awkward pause drifted over them, and Nat took it as his cue to leave.

  "Well," he said, brushing off his dress reds as he stood at attention, "I certainly appreciate your time. My apologies for the, uh, the way I started this conversation."

  "Forget it, Lieutenant. I'm happy to help you sort out the next path in your life."

  Hodges shook his hand and turned for the door.

  "Lieutenant," Tox said abruptly, halting Hodges at the door. "There might be something you could do to increase your chances of being considered for fighter school."

  His heart fluttered. "Yes?"

  Tox nodded. "Have you heard of these reports of disappearing natives? The whispers of an 'exodus' or 'deliverance' have been buzzing around the morning briefings lately."

  Nat swallowed. He had no idea the rumors were anything more than the typical scuttlebutt passing through the dormitories. If Tox could be believed, it meant locals indeed were vanishing from the camps.

  "I had heard some rumors," he said with care, stepping back toward Tox's desk as if suddenly navigating a minefield. "But you know how the dorms are."

  "I do," he said, studying Nat as he steepled his fingers, "but sometimes, the talk is true. Some feel the resistance is still out there and something is brewing. There is a fear they were merely dormant, buying their time."

  "For what, sir?"

  "Can I trust you?"

  Nat nodded, clicking his boots on the floor and standing at attention. "You know you can, Captain."

  Tox took a deep breath. "We've heard of a leader promising salvation to the locals," he said, his voice shifting into one of authority with alarming speed. "No one knows much more than that, but this alleged leader has surfaced at the same time as the disappearance of the local population. And then there are rumors the resistance may be receiving help from ... off-world."

  Nat swallowed, remembering Viper speaking of the "new friends." Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have believed the help would be coming from somewhere other than their planet.

  "Do you know where this assistance could be coming from?"

  Tox shook his head. "The galaxy's full of trash desiring to see the Zahl collapse. Wherever resistance forms, they flock like parasites."

  "I hadn't heard anything about this, Captain," he said, shaking his head and hoping Tox would believe him. "Very odd."

  "Isn't it?" Tox asked, cracking his knuckles. "We will not stand by idly while Yesro Vraun descends back into violence after a prolonged era of peace."

  "But I thought the resistance was dead, sir."

  He arched his eyebrows. "Dead ... or being quiet? Either way, we need vigilant infiltrators to keep their eyes open for any increased activity in the resistance. If this 'leader' exists and the resistance is planning something, we need to know about it. Needless to say, any officers aiding in such an endeavor would be richly rewarded by having the assignment of their choice like, say, fighter school?"

  Nat looked out the window at the Justice, knowing Interceptors were on board. "Tell me what I need to do.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nat and Soola stood side-by-side in silence, staring back at the skyline of Mohal coming to life. A sprinkling of lights shot across the blue heavens of early morning. The tubes shimmered as passengers began their day in what had become the busiest spaceport on Yesro Vraun.

  Cocking his head, Nat studied his friend. She wore the immaculate crimson uniform of a junior officer, pressed and perfectly ironed. The black beret sat atop her head as if it had been fastened to her skull with her hair tucked neatly underneath. He smiled, remembering the neon pink hair she had on the day they first met when their world came apart.

  Turning back toward the wide ramp leading to the departing shuttle, he took a deep breath.

  "You'll be all right," he said, his voice wavering. "I'm going to miss you."

  "I can't believe I'm about to travel across the galaxy." She turned to face him. "Promise to stay in touch?"

  He nodded, unable to look at her as his throat constricted. "I wouldn’t—ah, I wouldn't have made it through the Academy without you."

  She exhaled. "That's funny."

  "How so?"

  She smiled, her eyes fixated on the shuttle about to ferry her to the orbiting station. "I was about to same the same thing to you."

  "Really?"

  "Yep."

  "Hmm."

  He looked past the shuttle and beyond the city into the heavens. Alpha Station loomed in the sky like an enormous spindle. If he squinted, he could make out the docked Justice.

  He nodded toward the station. "You'll be on board the station in about an hour," he said, shaking his head. "Kinda hard to believe. What's next?"

  The smile faded. "The Valiant is on the way to rendezvous with the station to resupply and refit. Then ... who knows? Guess our world is safe now. I won't be here to see it, though."

  "I suppose."

  She bit her lip. "Everyone keeps talking about the rebel leader and the supposed exodus, but there's been no sign of the resistance for a long time. The cities have almost transitioned completely to Zahlian influence, and there hasn't been any violence in months. You think there's any truth to it?"

  "To what exactly?"

  "The exodus."

  Reaching out, he pulled her gently to face him. "Don't look back. Forget this place. You're an officer now, about to start a new life away from here. I can't wait to hear what you're about to experience. It'll be amazing."

  She smiled, and they embraced. Her body felt tense, vulnerable. When they parted, her face tightened with resolve.

  "Are you excited about your new assignment?" she asked.

  He feigned a smile, thinking of his current orders getting flight time in cargo shuttles and fighting back the thought of extreme boredom. Of course, he thought as he remembered his conversation with Tox regarding maintaining his vigil for resistance activity, I have other concerns, and the possible boredom will be the least of my problems.

  He clenched his jaw. "I'll be fine."

  "Maybe we'll link up in the fleet someday."

>   "Maybe."

  The shuttle's engines increased their growl, shattering the early morning silence. She looked up at the craft and swallowed.

  "Go," he said. "I'll be watching."

  "Okay." She wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled him close, kissing his cheek. "Thank you for everything. I ... love you, Nat."

  She parted without looking at him again, marching up the ramp with her satchel swinging behind her. Other officers joined her, hurrying into the shuttle. She disappeared in the crowd as the ramp raised with a whine of servos. As his stomach turned, he somehow doubted he would ever see her again.

  The deck officer ushered him away from the ship as the shuttle's engines roared. Nat backed up to the terminal's walls and watched as the shuttle's position lights grew brighter. The craft lifted off and turned toward the heavens. It moved forward and away from the port, accelerating into the sky.

  As the cargo shuttle became a pinpoint of light, Nat realized the last shred of his old life was leaving his homeworld. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  "All right, Lieutenant," the stocky Captain Yelberton Thumux said as he yawned in the cockpit. "Why don't you take this one?"

  Nat grimaced and took the stick. "Thank you, Captain."

  Thumux snorted. "Thank me when you've successfully docked this sucker, and the Commander is pleased."

  Cracking his knuckles, Nat gripped the stick with sweaty palms and got his bearings. His mind had wandered as Thumux brought the cargo shuttle into the approach pattern toward Alpha Station, as much as he hated to admit it. He thought Thumux was going to yet again just take over and make him watch, the same way he'd done on the previous twenty flights that month.

  So, he spent the hour flight from Mohal to the Alpha Station listening to the high-ranking officers and officials locked in loud conversation behind them. From politicians to bureaucrats, to officers, the topics ranged from fine wine to the latest developments in the Empire including increased tension with the Galactic Legion far from his homeworld. However, Nat found himself drawn to the voice of Gray Radman, a veteran troop commander who had led the initial assault and the pacification of the world he was now leaving.

  During the flight, Radman was asked numerous questions by the other passengers, always answering in stringent terms with few adjectives or elaboration and exhaling as if bored by the entire discussion. As if he recited a script, Radman said the local population had fought hard to resist but had now grown to love the Zahlian presence. He had wanted to stay for a little longer, but he had been assigned to a new campaign along the Frontier. Of course, he couldn't say where, even when prompted.

  Clenching his teeth, Nat eased off the throttle as the cargo shuttle continued forward on sheer inertia after escaping the Yesro Vraun atmosphere. Relying solely on the maneuvering thrusters, Nat guided them into position in front of the station's docking collar.

  "Good," Thumux said, flipping the shuttle's mating collar open as Nat watched the display showing they drifted closer to the station.

  "I could have gotten that," Nat said, glancing up from his display to look through the canopy.

  "I know," Thumux said, a touch of nerves drifting into his tone. "Concentrate."

  "I got this," Nat said, pulling up a bit to align the shuttle with the collar. "Almost there."

  Holding his breath, he guided the craft until the docking collar clamps grabbed onto his shuttle's hatch. The craft rumbled into place. He exhaled.

  "Very good," Thumux said, keying for the airlock to equalize. "I'll help our passengers off. Keep her on standby and go over your flight plan for the trip back to base. It'll be all you on the way home."

  Nat smiled as Thumux unbuckled his harness and moved back to address the passengers. He secured the shuttle and took a moment to stare through the canopy at the vast space station and his homeworld spinning beneath them.

  He recognized the fist-shaped continent formerly known as Ceroq passing beneath them, wondering if anyone was looking up at that moment. The dark blue of the Planafold Sea came next before a swirl of clouds blocked his view.

  Amazing, he thought. When he took a moment to realize he was currently floating 200 marks above his world, all the mundane tasks of flying a cargo shuttle melted away.

  "Lieutenant?"

  Nat spun around, recognizing Radman's voice immediately. "Commander?"

  Radman held up a hand to stop Nat from unbuckling his harness. "Please, sit. Just wanted to thank you for a nice flight. Captain Thumux tells me you grew up on Yesro Vraun?"

  Nat nodded, staring at Radman as if he was a celebrity. He had brown skin and jet-black hair, looking back at Nat with dark, close-set eyes like obsidian marbles.

  "That's correct, sir."

  Radman looked at him with approval. "Marvelous," he said, shaking his head and pointing at Nat. "You, sir, are proof we have unified Yesro Vraun into a strong new world of the Zahl Empire. I thank you for your service."

  He extended his hand. Nat gripped it firmly.

  "Thank you, Commander," Nat said, his mouth suddenly dry. "It is an honor. I wish you good fortune on your next assignment."

  Radman squeezed his hand once more and marched away from the cockpit with the other officers. The entourage disappeared through the airlock as Thumux stepped back into the cockpit.

  "Well, never had a high-ranking officer so interested in a second lieutenant before," Thumux said, stifling a yawn. "You need a coffee?"

  "Sure. Thanks."

  Thumux went onto the station and Nat went back to work. His commanding officer may have been confused by the visit, but it made perfect sense to Nat: Radman was concerned.

  With the rumors spreading across Mohal of a native promising exodus and deliverance, changing leadership during such a time was probably concerning. Radman receiving a new assignment before this one was finished entirely probably bothered him, and knowing a "native" had been part of the crew flying him to the station must have given him hope.

  Pressure pressed on his chest. Tox had asked him to keep his ears open for any legitimate information about the rebels, but Nat had heard nothing since graduation. With Soola gone, he wondered if he would ever hear any news that could help the Zahl find a local leader to get him a leg up in the competition for fighter school.

  He instinctively glanced at Atheron in the distance. Tressa was imprisoned there, as was, presumably, his father. He had heard nothing from Kad since Viper told him he had abandoned his role here to try and save Tressa. Was he still there?

  Probably not, he told himself the same way he did whenever the thoughts came to him. Kad would have reached out to him somehow.

  Nat focused on the task at hand. As he finished securing the shuttle, he concentrated on his flight plan for the trip home and pushed away any thoughts of rebellion. He just wanted a clean flight without giving Thumux a reason to provide another one of his boring lectures.

  "You did good," Thumux said, unzipping his flight suit as he stood in front of his locker. "You just need to remember to focus on the fundamentals and ..."

  Nat couldn't help it—he stopped listening. Thumux had said the same thing after every single flight. As his wide frame stood in front of the locker and he stared inside at the mirror, the Captain kept droning on about the importance of learning the basics until they were second nature. But all Nat could think of was flying the Interceptor.

  The sleek curve of the impressive fighters, once a regular sight in the skies over Yesro Vraun, had become a rare treat to witness. Less overt military actions had been seen over the planet as the resistance fell into memory. An occasional patrol and that was it, not a good omen if he planned to see a fighter school opening here on the planet. If he were to get noticed so he could fly an Interceptor, he would have to do something special.

  And flying a cargo shuttle was not special.

  "We have an important job," Thumux continued as he slammed the locker shut and stood bare-chested with a towel in his hand. "I'm told we'll be up agai
n the day after tomorrow. I'll let you handle the prep this time. See you in the office in the morning?"

  He nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm going to drop my notes off in the office and head home."

  "Have a good night."

  Nat finished changing into his sweatpants and hood, trying not to listen as Thumux began singing loudly in the shower since they were the only two pilots remaining in this wing of the port—definitely an advantage of a late-night flight.

  He made his way toward the offices, passing two janitors as he did so. They were old and looked weary, trudging through the halls pushing floating carts full of chemicals, shoulders slumped as if they carried a great weight on their shoulders.

  As he nodded at a female janitor with silvery hair braided in an elaborate style hanging down to the small of her back, he wondered at her past. What had she done before the Zahl arrived? Had she been a businesswoman? A teacher? A mother? How had the Imperial occupation affected her life?

  He didn't know why such questions plagued him consistently. Living in the city was like inhabiting a ghost world. As more otherworldly signs and architecture appeared, more of his old home faded. Soon, there would be no one left to remember what had come before. The people living here now—especially the newcomers—had no idea of the local history where they now lived. They treated the planet as if it was a new world, fresh and ready for conquest.

  And somewhere in the back of his mind, it still bothered him.

  It was, of course, the point of the Zahlian re-education courses he had been forced to take. Removing the old culture and replacing it with the "superior" ways of the Zahl had been at the top of the list for the invaders. But he had found the erasure of his culture had not been completed within himself, and he felt an odd sense of longing as if he had lost an old friend who would never return. The lingering feeling of loss encouraged him to try harder to leave.

  Shaking off the thought, he strolled into the offices designated for the cargo pilots. He made his way to the plain gray desk he shared with four other pilots. A simple terminal screen linked into Imperial flight plans sat atop the desk lined with scrap papers, two flight manuals and a magazine with a gorgeous woman in lingerie on the cover. Nat stared at her for a heartbeat and sat, pulling his notebook from the filing cabinet. He placed his flight plan and notes inside, locked the cabinet and stood. He stretched, his eyelids growing heavy as he walked out of the office.