by Drew Avera
Maybe this has to do with hauling the transport on board and not killing the pirate, Ilium thought as he sat up in his chair to give his attention to Harso. “I’m always busy, but what do you need?” He asked, trying his best to sound like a commanding officer who showed concern for his sailors. The words and effort involved didn’t taste as bad as he thought they would.
The man smiled before stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. He turned and the look on his face shifted. It wasn’t the nervous, concerned expression on the ship’s security chief’s face Ilium had seen before, but a look of utter condemnation. “Look, kid, I know you think you’re the boss of this ship and I’m fine with you thinking that way, but you need to understand something right now. You are a pawn in a game much bigger than any of us. You have a job to do and you need to do it. Harager contacted me and wanted me to demonstrate to you how this deal works.” Harso demeanor took an entirely different direction, and it was unsettling for Ilium. Harso’s words were harsh, but there was something else about the delivery that didn’t sit right with Ilium. It was as if the words were rushed, rehearsed.
Two can play at this game. “Hold on,” Ilium interrupted him. “I’m the commanding officer of this ship and you will not speak to me with such a tone. I’m not your kid, I’m your superior,” he said, just short of shouting. He thought about standing to add to the delivery, but doing so might prompt the other man to become violent. Ilium chose to play it safe.
“It’s nice that you think that,” Harso replied. His face scrunched up into a sneer as he scowled at Ilium. For the first time since reporting to the Hamæråté, Ilium felt afraid. “Your position is bullshit, just as my position is bullshit. All of this is to further the reach of the organization in charge of us. You need to play nice with the rules already established, or someone is going to put an end to you.” The man’s words were cold and flat.
“Is that a threat?” Ilium asked, his hands flat on his desk and a twitch in his right eye.
Harso smiled. “If it was a threat, I wouldn’t have my weapon pointed at you from underneath the desk would I?”
Ilium scooted his chair back and looked at the barrel of the weapon aimed in his direction, there was a bit of a shake that made it look like Harso might be nervous, or he could have been doing so to bring Ilium to notice it. “What?”
“Yeah, you might want to get in line, because the next time I have to correct you, it will be with a bullet to the head.”
Ilium glared at the man, but said nothing. Rage built up in his heart and the only thing keeping his mouth shut was the gun pointed in his direction. He knew that, if Harso shot him, Harager would cover it up and move on with someone else. That was how Harager worked; killing the people in his way to obtain whatever goal he had his mind set on. For a time, Ilium thought he and Harager were on the same page, but it was clear now that Ilium was just another tool at Harager’s disposal. I’m not standing for that shit anymore.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Ilium said, nodding his head towards the gun.
Harso lifted the barrel away from Ilium and holstered the weapon. “It takes only one time,” Harso said. “One act of defiance, one word uttered to expose our secret, one anything, and I will end you. It’s not personal, unless you make it personal. This is nothing more than a bloody business transaction and you need to keep your hands clean. Do you understand?”
Ilium swallowed hard. “Yes, I understand.” His heart pounded in his chest as his anxiety caused him to breathe faster. I hate being made to feel like someone’s bitch, he thought. This is not going to happen again.
Harso smiled. “Good. Now, on to other business. Vesna is a good man, a little too into his job, but a good man nonetheless. I suggest you learn to play nice, or the bullet in this weapon will find you. As for the pirate you had us put in stasis, I agree with you. The man is no threat while in stasis and you never know when someone expendable needs to be used. With that said, I never admitted to this and I stand behind Vesna’s position that it is a violation of policy to have the pirate on board. I hope you have a plan to remove him soon.”
The last part caught Ilium off guard. “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied. He was having a hard time reading the older man.
“I imagine this is a lot to take in. Just do me a favor and let me in on your plan so I can determine if it is suitable for our cause before you implement anything. I don’t want to undermine Harager’s authority. We all know what that will get us.” Harso patted his weapon and then rose from his seat. He turned to walk out of Ilium’s office before stopping and facing him again. “I knew about you before you arrived; about how much of a hothead you are. That mentality does not work within our organization. If you plan to live to see old age, you will want to mind your tongue and fall in line.” Harso walked towards the door, his shoulders hunched as if under a large burden.
There’s something not right about this, Ilium thought as he watched Harso leave, letting the door slam closed behind him. Ilium said nothing in return; he knew it was another threat, or a reminder of the threat from moments before. He’d had no idea he was on the radar as someone who did not fit in, but with this newfound information, he knew he would have to change his behavior in order to not bring the wrath of Harager. Or I can take matters into my own hands.
Harso opened the door, looking into Ilium’s eyes and said, “Have a wonderful day, sir.”
Ilium rose from his seat, adjusting the tail of his shirt in the process. “You too, Chief Harso. You too.” His response prompted a smile on Harso’s face as the door closed once more, this time gently.
Alone once again, Ilium gave into his rage. How could I be so stupid, he thought. Everything I’ve worked for has been to meet my own goals, but I never stopped to see how I fit into the grand scheme of things. Sure, perhaps I’m too concerned with myself, and that will never change. But maybe there is an opportunity here.
Ilium ran his hand along the console and brought up the file on Harso. He read everything about the man, knowing that most of it was likely fabricated by Harager. Still, there was information about his relatives. Harso had a wife and two children, both of whom were older teenagers. Harso had been stationed on the Hamæråté for a few years, which meant he may not have seen his family much during that time. There’s a tool to be used with this information, he thought, but am I willing to use it?
“Yes I am,” he whispered under his breath, reaching for the communications switch and placing an encrypted message to an old friend. Jerot Manow was the person Ilium looked up to as a kid. Being a few years older than Ilium, Jerot had seen more things and experienced more than Ilium had, and he showed Ilium the ropes for how to survive on his own. Ilium trusted him because Jerot was a man who did not believe in close ties. Ilium considered him a friend, but he knew Jerot did not view him in the same way, though there was some equivalency there. Otherwise, Ilium would have been dead a long time ago.
The video screen came online and captured his image and he said, “Jerot, I hope everything is well with you. I’m afraid things on the Hamæråté are not as I hoped they would be. I was given the privilege of becoming the commanding officer of this vessel, but my crew has not fully embraced my tenure in command. I need you to do me a favor in hopes of persuading some of my dissenters to succumb to my leadership. I am attaching a file to this message. In it you will find the personal information of my biggest detractor. I’m sure you can find a creative way to win him over as a loyalist. If not, you know what to do. I can’t wait to see you again.”
Ilium closed the message and password protected it before sending it across the galaxy to Jerot. “That will teach you to cross me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and allowing a smile to form on his face. I don’t need Harager to get what I want and it’s about time he understands that as well.
The room seemed to grow warm as Ilium sat in silence. He knew it would be hours before the message reached its destination, and perhaps days
before Jerot took care of the situation, but floating in the dark, all Ilium had was time. It was more than he could say for someone else.
Chapter Eight: Deis
“Stay behind me,” Deis warned, his hand out to stop Malikea from passing him as he looked up into the Replicade. The cargo bay appeared empty, except for the sound he heard from outside still emanating from the center of the wide-open area. Crackling that sounded like electrostatic interference hummed in the air around him as Deis silently moved further into the Replicade, his weapon drawn and his finger on the trigger. Malikea crept a few steps behind him, covering for Deis as he skittered across the deck to find another place to hide for cover. When Deis looked back he could see fear in his lover’s eyes, despite the look of resolve forged on his face. They mixed about as well and oil and water. I can see in his eyes that he is forcing himself to stay strong because he never again wants to be made a victim. I can relate to that. If anything, their last encounter with Crase Tuin confirmed the fact they never wanted to be at the mercy of someone else again. It was a horrific time, but it also revealed to Deis who he truly was and accepting that was one of the hardest things he had ever done. I’m not as strong as I thought I was, he thought, but with Malikea I’m stronger than I ever was.
Disembodied voices cascaded through the atmosphere around them, almost as if there was rogue radio waves using the steel hull of the Replicade as an antenna, but, unlike most worlds, Karanta didn’t use radio frequency for transmissions. Instead, they relied on light signals and light replicators bouncing off a myriad of satellites orbiting their world. It was probably why the Greshian Empire had yet to target them, but it was only a matter of time before their advanced civilization posed a threat that Greshia would want to consume or dismantle permanently. That was the horror of the war in Deis eyes, that cultures would die out regardless of how they were conquered.
The voices sounded once more. This time they seemed to come from behind him. He turned, but nothing was there. What is going on? The voices haunted his thoughts, seeming to speak outside and inside of his head simultaneously. It grated on his nerves and made him worry he was going mad. If not for seeing the same worry on Malikea’s face, Deis might have given into the madness, but he knew he was not fighting it alone. But is it an enemy we can defeat?
The overhead lighting above Deis’ head erupted with a heavy rain of sparks, and the cargo bay grew dim. He stifled a scream as fear coursed through his body and looked around for what could have caused the disturbance. Everything looked normal, but the feeling in the room was anything but normal. There was a presence so thick he thought he could reach out and touch it, but nothing was there. At least nothing he could see yet.
“I don’t see anything,” Malikea whispered from the other side of the passageway. He held his weapon up, ready to draw down on anyone or anything that popped up. The steel of the weapon reflected the yellow of his eyes. Deis knew his husband wasn’t made for this kind of duty; he was a nurturer, not a fighter. Knowing that and seeing Malikea armed for a fight made Deis feel guilty, but this was their lives now, whether they liked it or not. This was survival.
“I don’t either,” Deis whispered in return, hoping his voice would not carry enough for whoever was on board to hear him. Just because he did not see them did not mean they were not watching him. That’s not a very comforting thought. He craned his head around the weapons crate and peered deeper into the cargo bay of the ship, but he saw nothing.
“Do you want to go around and meet up forward?” Malikea asked with a whisper. It was a good idea. If nothing else it would keep them from being out in the open. Even with a crate to hide behind, Deis still felt like an open target. His stomach turned at the thought he was hiding behind the same crate he used when Crase tried to overtake the ship. It was in a different location because of the overhaul efforts, but he was still using it for the same purpose, to remain hidden from whatever was out to get them.
Deis nodded and watched his husband turn and walk the length of the passageway, crouching down in the shadows of the ship. Deis said a silent prayer that Malikea would not get caught, but the fear inside him was snuffing out whatever hope dared to form in his heart. Nothing was as terrifying to Deis as the unknown, especially after what he experienced on Farax. As if Malikea being abducted wasn’t bad enough, they were also attacked by a pirate and an old friend turned enemy. He never would have seen that coming, and then to have both terrifying things occur and be connected to one another was enough to destroy any hope he had at a normal life. Perhaps that’s what’s wrong, he thought, I can’t accept the fact things will never be normal again.
Once Malikea was out of sight, Deis made his way towards the forward part of the Replicade. There was no passageway on his side, but the wide-open cargo bay had a few obstructions he could hide behind. Steel crates full of weapons and supplies made the best barricades, and he used them every few steps to try to keep out of sight. The entire time he heard the voices, sometimes in whispers and sometimes in his head. Never did he see exactly where they were coming from, though. Within a few minutes Deis made his way to the forward section of the ship where Malikea waited.
“Did you see anything?”
Malikea shook his head. “Nothing.” Deis could see the worry on Malikea’s face as he breathed heavily. Walking the length of the cargo bay did not require much effort, so it was fear causing Malikea to gasp for air. The same fear terrorizing Deis.
“What is going on here?”
Malikea shrugged, looking behind him, his hot breath steaming the shiny surface of his weapon.
The answer to that question came in the form of a loud burst of blue and green electricity arcing across the inside bulkhead of the ship. It came with a popping sound more reminiscent of steel snapping than of any explosion Deis had ever heard. It almost sounded as if the ship was breaking in half, but nothing seemed to be moving around them. Deis half expected the deck to split up the middle and toss Malikea and him into the steel bulkheads, piercing their bodies with jagged shrapnel. Instead, it was just one loud and frightening sound paralyzing him with fear. The cargo bay filled with blinding light and Deis could hear Malikea groan as his eyes burned in the brilliance of it. He was surprised that, as sharp as the light was, there seemed to be no heat radiating from it, but instead he felt cold as goosebumps prickled his flesh.
“That’s odd,” he said, his fear melting into curiosity as he waved his hand in the light. It was so bright that he could make out the bones in his fingers with the light shining through his gray skin like an x-ray.
With one hand in front of him, trying to block the piercing light, he stepped out into the open, allowing himself to be fully immersed in the light. Malikea said something behind him, but he did not understand what he was saying from the loud buffeting sound surrounding him.
I think I’m inside of something, he thought, reaching his hand out to the arcing electricity, branches of blue light contacting his skin and tingling up and down his body. If there were hairs on his body, he imagined they would be standing on end, but surprisingly the sensation caused no pain at all. The deeper into the event he stepped, the more he heard something familiar, a sing song version of a voice reverberating through a myriad of frequencies, but the tone of it sat in his mind as one that he knew.
“Who’s there?”
There was no answer, but the sound grew louder, more defined, more feminine.
“Is anyone there?”
“Deis?” It was a different voice, more masculine, but not threatening.
“Yes, I’m Deis,” he answered the haunting voice.
“Where are you?” the voice asked.
He looked around, making eye contact with Malikea, who looked just as frightened as Deis felt. “I’m on the ship, the Replicade.”
“So am I,” the feminine voice said from behind him, but sounding closer than before.
He turned to face the person speaking, but no one was there. “Where?”
�
�Is it safe now?” a small voice said, a whisper that spoke to his soul.
He heard two familiar voices answer with a “yes” and then the static disappeared and in its place was a blue sphere of bright light containing three bodies.
“What is that?” Malikea asked.
Deis stared, eyes wide, his heart pounding in his chest. “It’s Anki and Brendle,” he said, watching the details of their features come into existence as if they were being stitched together from the fabric of the universe. Next to them was a small girl, no more than nine or ten years old. He did not recognize her, but she stared into him as if she was studying him, learning him, becoming a part of him. She gazed back at him with what looked like his own eyes, yellow and reflective.
“Who are you? How is this happening?”
Brendle turned within the sphere, his hand touching the edge of it like glass, looking into his eyes. The look on his face suggested he was just as surprised as Deis, which told him that neither of them knew exactly what was happening. “Her name is Carista and she needs our help,” Brendle said. His voice sounded peculiar, almost like it was an echo to Deis’ ears.
Malikea stood next to him, reaching out to touch the sphere. “It’s beautiful,” he said.
“How can we help her?” Deis asked.
“We must take her away from this world,” Anki answered, her voice not sounding entirely like herself.
“But where?”
“Anywhere,” the girl said. Her voice trembled with fear, her eyes drenched in tears as he looked at her.
“All…all right,” Deis said.
With his words the sphere disintegrated and the three forms became fully visible in the cargo bay, no longer inhibited by whatever energy was contained within the sphere.
Anki stood, looking around mesmerized. “What happened?”
Deis, confused, shrugged his shoulders. “I was going to ask you that as well.”
