by Frank Carey
"Me? Me? I did nothing. Your grandmother, though, did a great deal."
"What did she do?"
"She replaced the Rachel with a brand-spanking-new freighter with twice the capacity and range of the Rachel. She paid the crew double-hazard pay for the time they were off work. She paid for the skipper's stay in the hospital, and she arranged for a very lucrative hauling contract be sent the skipper's way. The skipper has now applied to become a Ventosian."
Shenda closed her eyes before asking, "What did you have to do to placate Merkesa?"
"I gave her my complete collection of vintage hula girl dashboard ornaments plus a genuine 1950 Ford Woody Hot Rod Surf Wagon complete with two Earth 1950s balsa surfboards. The woman loves to surf."
"Dad! All your hulas?"
"All the spares. Please understand, SpecPro left a horrible trail of destruction starting with me and ending with you and your sibs."
"What aren't you telling me?"
"They orchestrated my breakdown. In effect, Muntz conceived and birthed Atmar."
"Oh my God. Wait, you mean..."
"Yes, I mean you are not prone to follow in my footsteps, lose your mind, and spawn the likes of Atmar, but you do have other issues, at least I think you do."
"Huh?"
"Deep down, neither one of us wants to admit we can make mistakes. We're perfectionists. I spent the ten years after Atmar getting my head on straight. I learned to accept my imperfections. More importantly, I forgave myself for the mess I made of Aerith's and Marta's lives."
"But, you saved their lives?"
"From a threat they would have never faced if I hadn't screwed up ten years before. My actions and my ego put them at risk. Sure, you could blame Muntz, but I made it possible for Muntz to get into my head."
"What are you saying?"
"What are you feeling right now, specifically about your sibs?"
"What? I feel fine. They're fine..."
"Is that why you haven't talked to them since returning from Vodalorn? Bobby and Torren are in tears while Christa is taking Kung Fu lessons. Something about kicking your ass."
"No! It's not that. It's..."
"Guilt that your actions almost killed them?"
Shenda looked to the ceiling while trying to hold back tears. "Yes. I almost killed them, and I don’t know what to do to make it right."
Harm grabbed a box of tissues and walked around the desk to take a chair next to his daughter. He handed her one. "Welcome to my world. I felt the way you feel for years. Not fun, is it?"
"What the hell am I going to do? I can’t face my sibs. I can't go back to the Rachel. I can't stay here forever. What's left?"
Harm sat back and said nothing for a moment. "Ever hear the term 'Walkabout'?"
"No. What is it?"
"You really need to embrace your human side. On Earth, it historically refers to a rite of passage during which indigenous male Australians would undergo a journey of self-discovery prior to a transition into manhood. Today, the term has come to mean finding one's self by leaving their familiar lives to undergo a long journey. I spent a ten year long walkabout before returning to Marta and Aerith."
"You started over."
"Yes, I started over, just as you can."
"How?" she asked, intrigued.
"You spent the first fifteen years of your life taking care of Torren, Bobby, and Christa. You kept the family together and raised them to become the finest people I have ever met. Then you spent the next six years trying to live up to my legacy while worrying about repeating my mistakes. I think it’s time you do something for yourself," he said as he handed her a fat envelope.
"What is this," she asked as she tore it open and removed the contents.
"Your walkabout. On top are your new credentials. You once told me you thought Marta had a cool last name, so I took the liberty of creating a new identity for you. If it pleases you, you will be Shenda McMurphy from now on."
"What about Shenda Aymar?"
"Her body was found by Vermeer in the wreckage of the Rachel. Her remains have been interned on Vodalorn where she is honored as the savior of the crew of the Rachel."
"But my master's license, school diplomas..."
"Your sister is a master hacker who shares your looks, DNA, and fingerprints. She took care of all of that while your brothers took care of any physical evidence. Shenda Aymar is gone. Shenda McMurphy is going to show everyone how it’s done in Elf Town."
"I'll have to find a ship..."
"In the next stack of papers is a deed to the Magog which is now known as the C-57D. You can choose any name you want for her. In her safe are twenty million credits for fuel and incidentals. Again, Christa was instrumental in changing her systems over to your control from mine."
Tears flowed as she came to the last stack of papers.
"Those are personal letters of introduction to some friends of mine over at Smuggler's Cove. Go there, talk to them, and get a crew. Though I am averse to using a crew, I did design Magog to use a standard four to five member crew. I've refitted her with cabins and have removed the workshop to give you more cargo space. You also have lines of credit at all the major stations."
She read through the papers twice, unable to say anything.
Harm handed her a keyring with a hula girl attached to it. "Here are the master initiators for the C-57D. She's down in bay six, fueled, provisioned, and ready for launch. Take her, go to Smuggler's bay, get a crew, and start hauling merch. Most importantly, find yourself."
"I can't just leave..."
Harm's door opened followed by Marta, Christa, Torren, Bobby, Aerith, and Sana Eloen, the young elf who serves under Marta on Team one. Harm saw Shenda’s confusion and explained. "Oh, forgot to tell you about your new sister. Sana's an orphan, just like you, and Ith was giving her guff about her wish to marry one of their citizens..."
"Sana, they wouldn't let you marry Lenneth?"
"Morons have some rule about parents having to give their approval," Sana explained, her voice dripping with disgust.
"So Marta and I adopted her and gave our permission."
Sana held out her hand and flashed an engagement ring.
"What do you all think of my plan?" Harm asked the assembled family.
One by one, they walked over to Shenda, hugged her, and gave encouragement with Christa, Bobby, and Torren waiting for last. When it was their turn, they gave their sister a group hug and told her they just wanted her to find happiness.
Soon, the C-57D—now the LTV Marta McMurphy—was heading to Smuggler's Cove for a new crew and a new beginning.
###
"How's that?" Harm asked through his headset.
"Still tight, but better," Marta replied while working the power armor's right arm.
"It's these new articulators. The factory missed them. Take a break while I make an adjustment."
Marta jumped out of the suit and walked over to the refreshment table to grab a drink. Her husband set a mean table when he was testing suits. Looking around, she chose an elf-ale and a cookie. "Want anything?"
"Just a water, please."
She grabbed a bottle and brought it to him. "How are you holding up?"
"Me? I'm fine. I'm glad to be able to get to some of these projects. How are you doing?"
"I miss her."
Harm broke away from his adjusting and looked at Marta. "Me too."
The intercom chimed. "Incoming call for Harmon," the computer announced.
"ID?"
"Conquistador."
Harm looked at Marta who frowned. Conquistador was the ship Harm used to stop the Grange from entering this universe. "Put it through."
"Working."
An image formed on the lab's main viewer. It was of an older elfling with dark hair and blue human eyes.
"Hello, Marta. Hello, Harm," the elfling said.
"Do I know you?" Marta asked.
"Gretchen?" Harm said as he got out of his chair. "Gretchen, is that you?"
"Gretchen? You mean your old field crew from Tralaska?" Marta asked. "Harm told me about you. I owe you his life..."
"No, you owe me nothing. It's I who owes you."
"Gretchen, you're an elfling?"
"We worked together for five years and you never figured it out. Yes, I'm an elfling, and I go by my real name now."
"Real name?"
"Breanne Michaels. Gretchen was my smuggler persona along with the hoodie and gangster clothes. Those days are long gone. I'm afraid I've gone legit."
"Damn, I knew you'd get out. That is so good to hear."
"And I have you to thank. I see you and Marta are back together."
"Yeah and I haven't looked back. So, how did you find me?"
"I ran a rather deep and illegal computer check on my new boss and your name popped up. You know her?" she asked as a picture of a young elfling woman appeared.
It was Shenda.
"Shenda," Marta whispered.
"I figured. She has your wide-eyed look of curiosity, even if it is with human eyes."
"Is she OK?"
Bree nodded. "We're all doing fine. Our hold is booked for the next year and we have a two-year backlog of contracts. The skipper's a genius when it comes to hustling business. That girl is going to go far in the merchant world."
"She does have the touch."
"Harm, is there anything I need to know about Shenda?"
"Nope, and you know I would tell you if there was."
Bree nodded. "Thanks. Thanks for everything, and I mean that."
"I'm glad you made it past my bullshit."
"No bullshit. You just picked the wrong partner, but I heard you fixed that. Listen, I have to go. Want me to relay anything to the skipper?"
"No. You might not want to tell her you know me. It’s complicated."
"Copy that. Is it OK if I call occasionally?"
"Anytime. Good journey."
Bree nodded before killing the connection.
"So that's Gretchen," Marta said as she walked over and put her arm around Harm's waist. "Do I need to worry about her?"
"Marta, my love, many elves mate for life. Divorce is just paperwork, nothing more. You were my first and only lover and you will be my last. Realize that even though Gretchen and I worked together for five years, and even shared a foxhole from time to time, I didn't know she was an elfling. Think about it."
Marta let him go and stepped back in shock. "What are you saying? You never… In fourteen years, you never once… Well, that explains the visions."
"Funny. I also know humans believe otherwise, but I don't really care. We are together, now, and that's all that counts. The rest is just noise."
He turned back to adjusting the arm while Marta just stared at him and shook her head. "Damn!" she said before walking over and giving him a rib-crushing hug. “I think I’ll keep you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two million years ago, give or take a century…
"Investigator Agendor, the last of the seed ships have left while the remaining evacuation ship is waiting for you to board," Rutile announced. Around them the city and planet burned.
"I remember what Charth looked like before the Specter War. I brought those creatures here and look at the fruits of my labors," he said as he swept his hand across the ruined landscape.
"You stopped the specters, sir. You gave us, and the galaxy, hope. That has to count for something"
"Perhaps, yet I have a nagging feeling of dread. Rutile, tell the Captain I shall be along shortly."
"Yes, Investigator," Rutile said as she walked back to the waiting ship.
Investigator Agendor turned back to his ruined planet. He watched the flames and the clouds of smoke rise over the scarred land, his thoughts deep and dark. A sound interrupted his musings. Turning, he found a raven-haired woman staring at him, her eyes glowing green like his, yet her ears were without point and she had no tail.
"Can I help you?" Agendor asked the young woman; sure he had never seen her kind before.
"Wakey-wakey, young elf. You have work to do," she said, her voice as beautiful as a summer rain.
Present day…
The hypersleep chamber opened to a cacophony of alarms and warning lights. Chasm's training took over, as he tried to clear the hypersleep haze from his brain. "Ruby, status!" he yelled as he downed the bottle of electrolytes sitting next to the bed. The fluid tasted like a cocktail of battery acid and old coffee, but it gave him strength as it replenished nutrients his body needed to come fully awake.
"We have a distress call from one-one-six mark three-eight, distance one hundred thousand clicks. We are on an intercept course. Defensive weapons are charged, shields at maximum."
The glow of Chasm's green eyes flared, as he became fully awake. "Where are we, who's being attacked and by whom?" he yelled as he grabbed his helmet before taking the pilot's seat. He locked the helmet into place and activated its heads-up display while strapping in.
"One moment sir... This is impossible."
"What is it?"
"We are approaching a planet called Markesh, a colony world at the edge of the League of Planetary Systems, a coalition of over forty civilizations. I'm picking up their inter-computer communications. The planet is being attacked by ecoformers, our ecoformers."
"Wait, you can interface with their network?"
"Their network protocols are similar to ours, and my universal translator is second to none. I've spoofed their servers into thinking we're one of theirs. Uploading their database now."
"Any sign of the Harvest Moon or any other former ship? The damn things have to be coming from somewhere."
"Scanning... No sign of the factory ship.
"Send the stand-down command."
"Sending... We are being ignored."
"Send the self-destruct command."
"Sending. Still being ignored."
Chasm thought for a moment. "Arm all probes for remote self-destruct. Configure their drives for EM pulse emission."
"Aye, sir. Ready."
Chasm thumbed a switch on the control yoke. "This is Chasm of the Elven Exploration Corps. Prepare for EM pulse in five seconds. We are sending information about the devices attacking you. Chasm out." He killed the comm feed. "Transmit all schematics we have of the bots."
"Sir?!"
"Do it before this League thinks we've declared war on them."
"Transmitting... They have received and have acknowledged.
"Set probes to string of pearls configuration and launch."
"String of pearls configuration set, probes away," Ruby reported. "Detonation in three... Two... One.... Pulse! Wave front impact in one second..."
Chasm dropped the Hunter's Moon into hyperspace just as the electromagnetic pulse was about to hit.
"Sir, don't do that ever again."
"I assume I cut it a little too close?" Chasm said as he removed his helmet. He looked up and saw his reflection in the forward windscreen. Skin as black as space, his black hair tied in a ponytail, while his face was framed by two long pointed ears. His eyes glowed back at him like two green suns.
"A little, sir."
"Ruby, what have we done?"
"Sir, you have done nothing. Everything was going to plan when we left Crystal."
"I set out to explore a world and wake up in a nightmare. Are scanners picking up anything former-like in the immediate vicinity?"
"No sir. Sir, we have to tell someone about this," Ruby pointed out. "We only have minimum armament.
Chasm rubbed his face. "You're right. What about Markesh? Perhaps they won't execute the elf that just saved them?"
“It looks like the formers were trying to destroy the planet's communication capability before attacking the surface. I scanned the planet as we passed and there was no sign of formers on the surface."
"Great. At least the inhabitants are still alive. What's nearby?"
"Halo station, described as a den of thieves on a ga
lactic scale. They're League affiliated."
"Set course for Halo and keep scanning for ecoformers, please."
"Yes, sir. Sir, I hate to bring this up..."
"I know. I need to be briefed on the League, its peoples, and its customs. Gods, I hate this. The elves have achieved faster than light travel yet we can't figure out how to input data into our heads without inducing a migraine headache."
"No, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Lord, what I do for queen and country," Chasm said as he got out of the pilots seat and headed aft to the med bay. Once there, he lay down in the room's diagnostic medbed and closed his eyes. "Do it."
The bed downloaded terabytes of information into Chasm's brain while tears flowed from his eyes. "I really hate this part," he said as the data flowed into his skull.
###
The League Patrol Ship Searcher made its way through the outer reaches of League space as it responded to an emergency call from the planet Markesh. A call came in reporting the planet was under attack from a horde of robots of unknown design. At the flight station, Elf Marine Expeditionary Force Team One Maj. Sana Eloen monitored their progress, while to her left Capt. Tell monitored the ship from the operations station. Behind them, Sgts. Mena, Jonas, and Tracy monitor Sensors, Weapons, and Communications respectively. The Searcher was one of the new breed of patrol ships crewed by a single EMEF team in a five-person crew configuration.
"Captain, ETA to Markesh?" Sana asked her draco captain.
"Five minutes, ma’am," Trell replied.
"Tracy, any further word from the colony?"
"No, ma’am, none. I've sent both standard and emergency queries, but I get no reply."
"Jonas, go hot on all offensive and defensive systems. Tracy, contact Space Command and report our status."
"Ma'am, we're being jammed." Tracy replied.
"Origin?"
"Markesh, ma’am."
"Sgt. Tracy, close the log on buoy one and pop it," Sana ordered. “Log buoy two to standby.”
"Aye, ma’am. Closing log. Buoy away."
"Load backup buoy and prepare for immediate launch."
"Aye, ma’am. Both buoys are standing by."
"Trell, assessment?"
"Ma'am, I suggest we decant firing," she said. Firing as the ship exited other-space would form a wall of hypervelocity slugs directly in front of the ship. This could be disastrous if there were friendlies ahead.
