by Drew Avera
“I’ve got to get out of here and occupy my mind with something else,” he said aloud. He zipped up his coveralls and slid on his boots. “The Replicade is quite possibly halfway to the asteroid belt by now. We have time to figure this out. No need to go mad trying to do it now.” His words poured from his lips to no one’s ears but his own. He needed someone to talk to, and when no one was available, he had to make do with himself.
Brendle stepped out of his room and quietly walked through the dark passageways of the Replicade on his way to the medical bay. As he strolled through the dim corridors, his thoughts drifted to the disarray of the ship after only two weeks of overhaul in the shipyard. Even though a majority of the work was accomplished, most of the overhead lighting was still tagged out in preparation for the quality control team to come and test the electrical systems. It left him with an uneasy feeling, knowing the ship hadn’t passed inspection yet, and here they were drifting through the dark without knowing if the ship was capable of handling vacuum, or worse, atmospheric reentry. That’s all I need—to explode in a cloud of fiery destruction when we try to land on another world. Of course, who was to say they would have an opportunity to do so any time soon. He hated not knowing what was coming, and the sinking feeling that there was something just around the corner to come and bite him in the ass.
Brendle’s mag-boots clacked against the metal rungs of the ladder as he descended from the third deck to the second. The lighting was better in this part of the ship, but only because the light emanating from the medical bay was brighter than from most of the fixtures installed in the overheads. He saw Anki standing outside the medical bay. She turned to face him as he stepped closer, probably distracted by the sound of his footsteps coming close. Brendle felt a pang of guilt when he watched her wipe something from her eye as if she’d been crying.
“Are you all right?”
She smiled, but he could tell it was forced. “I’m fine,” she said. She sniffled lightly and her eyes were a little red and puffy.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“You’re a terrible…I don’t even know right now,” she said, chuckling lightly. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about her and I’m having trouble collecting my thoughts, I guess.”
“I understand completely. I do think she’ll be all right once we get her away from those CERCO people.”
“If we can.”
“We will. We’re on our way to the outer asteroid belt, there’s no way they can find us there. Besides, once we jump out of this sector, she will be lost to them.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“How is she doing?”
“She’s fine, I think. She said something really cryptic to me, though.”
“What?”
“I told her we would keep CERCO from getting to her and she said if they did get to her they would make her kill me.”
Brendle placed his hand on Anki’s shoulder. “That won’t happen,” he said. His heart thumped in his chest loud enough he could hear it.
“I hope you’re right. I just can’t imagine what kind of horrible things they have done to her to make her think like that,” Anki replied as fresh tears ran down her cheeks. Brendle brought her into his arms and wrapped them tightly around her. Her body shook as she let herself cry.
“I know, I was thinking about that too. It’s hard to imagine that anyone could do such harm to children. It makes me sick to think about it.”
Anki planted her face deep into his shoulder, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt as he ran his hand along her back to comfort her. “I just don’t think I can handle not being able to protect her,” she whispered.
Brendle’s heart ached for Anki and Carista. He understood all too well how hard it was to accept not being there for the people who needed you most. Anki was a nurturer, a protector. It is only natural for her to feel this way, he thought. “This is a powerful ship, and we have Deis and Malikea to help protect her,” he said, hoping that his words would encourage her. In truth, they really didn’t have much, but he knew they would not go down without a fight if that is what it took to protect her.
“I hope it’s enough.” She pulled away from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry I cried on you.”
Brendle smiled. “That’s what my shoulder is there for.” He touched her face lightly and lifted her chin. Their eyes met as Brendle brought his lips to hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said. He savored the soft, sweet taste of her lips lightly caressing his tongue as he hungrily ran his hands along her back and pulled her hips close to him. “Now’s not a good time,” she whispered as their lips parted.
He knew that, but he thought it would do her some good to know he desired her. Maybe it will help cheer her up, he thought. “Why don’t you go to our room and lie down for a little while. Deis has the bridge and I can watch over Carista.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. You’ve been with her since we left Karanta. I’m sure you would like a break whether you want to admit it or not.”
“All right,” Anki said, wiping the last remnant of a tear from her eye as she grinned sheepishly at Brendle. “She’s resting now. I think whatever power she used to get us here took a lot of her energy from her.”
Brendle nodded. “I imagine traveling like that isn’t very easy. I just wish I knew how she did it.” And is that why she’s wiped out, or did something happen to her on that other ship?
“You and me both. It’s amazing and terrifying.”
“Yeah,” he said. They stood together quietly for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. “I guess I’ll go sit with her now.”
“All right.” She smiled and kissed him one more time before walking sluggishly down the passageway and up the ladder Brendle had just descended. He watched her as she disappeared up the ladder well, her hips swaying side to side. He smiled as he thought about holding her in his arms later. She really has a hold on my heart, he thought as he was left alone in the passageway. He turned to look into the medical bay where Carista lay sleeping. She looked at peace, but Anki suspected the girl was anything but at peace. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be a little girl being chased down by some psychotic corporation, and I’ve been chased by the Greshian Empire and by pirates.
Brendle stepped into the medical bay and took a seat quietly next to Carista. The readout on the monitor said everything about her was normal—heart rate, brain activity, oxygen levels—but he knew the girl was far from normal. Brendle smiled as he watched her sleep, thinking back to a time when he was an innocent child too. He wished she could have what he had at that age, before his life turned and his father left his family, before Brendle fell into a bad crowd and got into trouble, before he joined the Greshian Navy and claimed the lives of several worlds for an empire that he despised.
“You deserve better,” he whispered.
Brendle leaned back in this chair and stretched his aching back. The room wasn’t quiet, but it was tranquil in its own way. The air recyclers hummed above them, lulling him to the brink of slumber as he leaned his head back against the headrest. We all deserve better, he thought as he closed his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen: Anki
Anki’s deceased father, Menegious Paro was the kindest, most loving man she had known and the Greshian Empire had taken him away from her. He was a man of peace, full of compassion and forgiveness. In her darkest thoughts she often wondered if he had the capacity to forgive what was done to her world, to him. She liked to think he would, but even still, the thought was less comforting than she knew he would have wanted for her. In the blink of an eye Anki’s world changed, tossed asunder and ignited into an oblivion that was out of her control. She knew she should be dead too, if not for the interference of her would-be enemy. Anki did not believe in fate; she believed that the power over one’s life was in their hands, but more and more her worldview changed as she experienced the horrors of what was tru
ly out there. The Alorian Galaxy was filled with more evils than just an overreaching empire. Evil often had the tendency to be more subtle, more subdued, more accessible.
Anki found room in her heart to love, but she harbored darkness as well, a hatred for oppression. It was always there, smoldering under the ashes of previous fires, but now she was the only Luthian left to continue to oppose the growing empire and their threat looming against the backdrop of a fearful galaxy. That fear threatened everything she held dear in this new installment of her life as well. She loved Brendle, despite the life he had come from. He was the light in her darkness. Malikea and Deis provided their own light as well. They were her compass, her family.
And then there was Carista, the girl without a home, or family, or love. Anki had seen the pain in her eyes reflecting back at her. The girl’s heart ached just as much as Anki’s, but she saw hope despite the horrors the girl had endured. Anki saw a bit of herself reflected back at her as well. How can there be hope in that kind of darkness?
Anki wiped a tear from her eye and sat up in the bed. She knew she should rest, to catch up on sleep that had eluded her while she sat in the medical bay with Carista, but her mind was running full-sprint.
“Pilot?”
“Yes, Anki?” Pilot replied, using the sound profile of Menegious Paro. It was programmed to allow Anki to hear her father again after Luthia was lost. It was a voice that tore her heart to pieces, but she could not bring herself to change it. It would feel like killing him all over again.
“I would like to talk to my father.” She needed more than just his voice.
“You desire a visual representation?”
Anki sniffled and said, “yes, please.”
From the other side of the room a holographic image appeared. Constructed of thousands of tiny fragments of light bonding together to form the image of Menegious Paro, Anki’s father.
“How can I help you, Anki?” The form of Menegious asked, the facial features moving in precisely the same way she remembered when her father spoke.
“There’s a girl on board who needs our help,” she said, her heart racing as she looked upon the likeness of her father. She knew it wasn’t real, and that she would regret it later, but for the moment she reveled in seeing him once again.
“I’m not sure how I can help.”
Anki hesitated. “She is being used, a slave to a corporation calling itself CERCO. They want to force her into becoming a weapon.”
“I understand, and you want to shield her from whatever fate is coming to find her?”
“Yes.”
“And how do you propose doing that?”
A stray tear ran down Anki’s cheek. “For as long as she is alive they will be after her,” she said. “If she is no longer a viable weapon, then she will ultimately be at peace.”
The holographic image flickered for a moment, a glitch in some matrix, but for a moment it looked saddened by Anki’s words. “You think by killing her you will be saving her?”
“And the lives of anyone she would be used against.”
“You’re logic is not flawed, but it is coldhearted. Are you certain there is no other way to bring the peace this girl so richly deserves?”
“That’s the problem. I know it is the right thing, but it feels entirely wrong to think that way.”
“That’s because empathy is working against you, Anki. You see something in her that reminds you of yourself. By seeing that part of you in her, you identify with her; you take on her pains and her struggles. That is the way a nurturing mind works. There is no flaw in that design any more than there is no flaw in the logic of what needs to be done. The real problem comes with whether or not the execution of that logic matches with what is morally right. Is one life a worthy sacrifice in order to save more? Are those lives a worthy sacrifice to save one person you see yourself in? Both of those questions are asinine. You will never come to the right answer because there is no single right answer. You can only do what you feel is right at the time, but know that your mind could change based on the outcome, and you will be filled with regret.”
“That doesn’t really help,” Anki said. His words felt like a kick in her stomach.
“I heard your conversation with her. She told you that if CERCO captures her, they will have her kill you. It is only natural to want to survive, to save yourself from the looming threat of another person taking it.”
“But she doesn’t want to take it. She doesn’t want any part of any of this.”
“That may be true, but does she have the ability to ward off those who would force her hand? Can she stand up to them, stand up for herself, or is she an unwilling participant in whatever massacre they have planned?”
Anki sat back down onto the bed, quietly contemplating the question presented to her. Pilot may have the voice of her father, but these were not her father’s words speaking to her. Menegious would have her save the girl because that was how much he loved children. He would never want to see them harmed. The answer she was getting was the same answer she gave herself each time she thought about it. Logic versus emotion. She knew it was just a computer analyzing the situation and presenting the evidence of that analysis. The problem was that the analysis said nothing she wanted it to. She was back to where she started, questioning herself and her motives.
As coldhearted of an idea as it was, Anki knew the best thing for Carista and the world at large was to reduce the threat. Carista being that threat made Anki feel like the monster, though. What do I do?
Anki fell back onto the waiting mattress below her, taking comfort in the warmth of the blankets as she wrapped herself in them. “Thank you, Pilot. That is all,” she said, no longer wishing to see the painful reminder of her loss reflected in the holographic display. She had enough of a burden on her heart without thinking about that.
“Very well,” Pilot said, the hologram disappearing and her room falling once more into restless silence.
In the silence her fears made her feel more isolated than ever. That same isolation that she supposed Carista felt. Maybe that was why she ran to us. Maybe she felt something towards us, Anki thought. I keep trying to rationalize it, but I come up with nothing. Is it fate, or is it just a run of bad luck following us around because we are easy targets? She wiped a tear from her eye, not feeling sad, but feeling defeated. What hurt her most was feeling she was losing no matter what decision she came to make. It wasn’t fair, but few things in life fell into that category. She had only one right choice: to take a step forward until it was impossible to take another one. The problem now was that there were no more steps to take without coming up with a decision. What is the best thing to do? What is best for the crew? What is the right thing to do? There were too many questions with too many varying answers. Life should never be this hard, she thought, letting her eyelids fall closed. She knew she couldn’t sleep, not with the demand for some decision to be made driving her crazy.
Whatever decision she would come to, Anki knew what the right thing to do was. She tried to fight it, tried to reason with it, but it was futile. The only real question now was whether or not she had the strength to carry through with it.
Chapter Fourteen: Ilium
The walk to his in-port cabin with an armed escort made Ilium reflect on his past. He didn’t know if it was due to fear or anger, but something in his chest burned with the fire like a thousand stars. He craved vengeance and nothing had even happened yet, just the overthrow of his station on the Hamæråté, but that was really all a ruse anyway. He wasn’t as interested in having the command as what having that command could do for him in the future. For all Ilium cared, Lieutenant Vesna could fly the Hamæråté into the nearest star so long as he could get off the ship before it was consumed. No, the ship doesn’t matter, but the implications of this situation might be further reaching than I realize.
The truth was much stranger than anyone besides Ilium and Vesna probably even realized. Ilium wondered if Vesna had clued t
he security detail in to the actual situation, or if he was hiding behind some lie in order to coordinate his mutiny. He wouldn’t put it past the man, but then again, everything fell apart so quickly it was almost by design. Part of me respects him for having such balls, but the other part of me wants to see him bleeding on the deck as I stomp his fucking face with a mag-boot, he thought as he was shoved into his quarters.
“Get in there,” Vesna said. “Search him again.”
One of the security men, and enlisted man Ilium didn’t know by name, patted down Ilium’s pockets and body. “He’s clean, sir,” the man said as he turned quickly away from Ilium and stepped out of the room.
“Well, Ilium, I guess I’ll leave you to your quarters. The door will be locked, but someone in security will escort you to the bathroom every other hour.” Vesna looked at his watch. “Dinner will be delivered soon. Try not to cause a disturbance. I would hate to report to Central Command that you got hostile and we had to shoot you.”
“Do you really think you will get away with this?”
Vesna smiled. “I already have.” The man displayed a confidence that made Ilium want to vomit.
“I see you grabbed some of the junior guys for your little security detail. What about Chief Harso—isn’t he part of your little uprising too?”
“What makes you think Harso matters in any of this?” Vesna asked as he crossed his arms. He looked into Ilium’s eyes with a cold, emerald gaze.
“Don’t you think he’ll be a little suspicious? You are, after all, locking away your commanding officer and taking his ship.”
Lieutenant Vesna laughed. “You’re quite stupid, aren’t you? Harso was expendable, a throwaway character to see how you would act if you were called out for your shit. I have to say, it worked perfectly. You revealed your hand, and now Harso and your little friend Jerot are dead.”
“What?” Ilium was confused, he thought back to the last time he was given a report by Lieutenant Vesna. Chief Harso’s family had been targeted—of course that was Ilium’s doing—but Vesna said nothing about the man’s being dead, nor did he mention anything about Jerot. Then again, why would he?
