by L S Roebuck
“There certainly is a lot more stress than just working on my own stellar research,” Amberly replied, looking into Skylar’s bright blue eyes. Skylar was a middling height, with a healthy build — not too muscular, but not flabby. Amberly liked his blonde hair. The curly crown gave him a care-free feel, and after the heaviness of the last year, the no-worries attitude had a certain appeal. Skylar had a charismatic smile and a square jaw, which Amberly also liked, even though it reminded her of North. “I wish I could go back to be just doing research, but we all have to do what we have to do now.”
In the aftermath of the Battle of Magellan, Amberly had been promoted from lab analyst to research director for Waypoint Magellan’s Science Corps. She now reported to the waypoint’s Chief Science Officer Owais Memon who reported directly to the governor. For a 20-year-old to be research director was unprecedented. The previous research director had perished during the Chasm conflict, and the assistant director could not cope with harsh post-Chasm realities, and she killed herself by consuming a strong sodium hydroxide solution.
Not unlike her off-the-charts genius mother, Amberly possessed a truly gifted intellect. This combined with the fact that Governor Thor saw Amberly as a hero of the Battle of Magellan, made the path for Amberly’s promotion obvious. Thor’s bet on Amberly was a good one, though it was met with some resistance because of her accidental role in the Chasm plot. She was a natural leader, and her skills in identifying threats from stellar radiation had become invaluable with Magellan’s shielding damaged severely from bombardment from the American Spirit under the command of Kimberly Macready.
“We’re lucky to have you keeping things together in the Science Corps,” Skylar said as he signaled the barkeep, Kato, for another drink. Kato, who had been slouching behind the bar reading a novel on his infopad, sprung up and started filling a glass.
The bar felt empty to Amberly. These days, the bar was never crowded. Half of the furniture was gone, also, the metal from barstools and tables having been used for critical repairs. And the absent friends made Rick’s feel all the emptier, Amberly thought.
Kora felt Amberly’s distance, and her older sister’s intuition confirmed her redhead sibling was pining for their long-gone Marine friend. She jumped in to fill the gap in the conversation.
“So, Skylar,” Kora said, “I’ve read the rumors that you may be running for a seat on the Waypoint Council. Is that true?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that as well,” Skip said. “As long as you don’t get too traditional, you’ll have my vote.”
“To be completely honest, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Skylar said, as Kato walked up and handed him a fresh glass. “I’ve been talking with Commander Moreno about getting her endorsement if I do run. If I have her support, that would help tip the balance in favor of running.”
Marine Executive Officer Rita Moreno, a sharp-featured olive-skinned woman in her early 40s, took command of the waypoint during the Chasm attacks, and was largely credited with saving the waypoint from annihilation. Because of her war hero status, her endorsement would almost ensure a victory in a popular election. Although Moreno did not relish the role of king maker, she didn’t shun it either, trying to make sure that calm heads and Earth-loyal hearts filled the 10 seats on the council. Anyone with any ambition had to work to curry favor with Moreno.
Kato picked up some empty glasses off the table where the five-some were sitting. “Be sure to come back next week. We’ll have our first keg brewed partially from barley grown in the topside gardens.”
“Count me in,” Skip said, pushing away his unfinished glass of synth beer. “Where does the line start?”
“Skippy, be grateful for what you got,” Lydia said. “We’re alive, and at least we have something to drink.”
“And since we have drinks,” Skylar lifted his glass, “I say we toast.”
Amberly caught a joyful glint in Skylar’s blue eyes. He caught her gaze and smiled broadly. “What do we toast to then, future Councilman Trigs?” Amberly asked.
“To Earth, to our forbearers who made Magellan, to our fallen friends, and to the heroes of Magellan – most specifically to you, Amberly Macready, heroine extraordinaire – and to our loyal Marines on the Magnus, Capt. Obadiah and XO North, may they bring the Chasm uprising to heel!”
“Hear, hear!” said Skip, pounding his glass on the table. “To North! The best damn friend a guy could have.”
“To North!” Lydia agreed, and pushed her glass into Kora’s.
“To North, the bastard!” Kora said. Kora didn’t require too much alcohol to get inebriated, and she was clearly starting to get buzzed. She stood and stepped next to the stool where her sister sat, took her sister’s head in her hands, and hugged her into her bosom. “You know, it wasn’t right what North did to you little sister. I mean, North’s a good man. North’s a real hero. But he should know that you didn’t betray us. He should know!”
Amberly broke from her sister’s embrace and smiled weakly. “Maybe North was right. Maybe I am no better than my mother.”
Skip decided to intervene. “No. No. No. Amberly, you are not like Raven One. Chasm was trying to kill us all. We were all desperate and hurt. We should all give each other a little um… grace. I think seeing so many of his men die, that … broke North in ways we don’t understand.”
Lydia looked over at her boyfriend. She was beaming with pride at how Skip was speaking peace and comfort. The battle may have broken North, but it helped Skip become a better man, Lydia thought.
“I’m sorry,” Kora said. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I didn’t mean to offend you. North was a good friend to us all. He saved our lives.”
“North is a good friend to us all,” Amberly corrected.
“I’m not feeling well, I better head back to Trot and baby Alroy,” Kora said.
“I’ll walk you home,” Lydia stood up. “Amberly, you want to come too?”
“No,” Amberly said, wanting some more time to reminisce in Rick’s. “I think I’d like to stay.”
“Okay Skip, take care of Amberly,” Lydia said and then looked over to Skylar. “Good to see you again.”
As Amberly watched her sister and her friend walk through the sliding doors into the corridor, she looked over at Skip and Skylar and started wishing that maybe she should have left with her girls.
“So Amberly,” Skylar said through a half-friendly, half-wicked smile. “Are you a fan of live music? I happen to have the last two tickets to the Waypoint Philharmonic concert at the Hoover Hotel commons. Would you be interested –”
A shout from across Rick’s interrupted his thought.
“Hey Skylar,” said a Marine who was across the bar. Amberly thought she recognized him as Eli Wong, one of the enlisted men who served in North’s strike force. “What are you doing hanging out with that redheaded Chasm harlot?”
“Excuse me?” Skylar stood up. Skip followed suit.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Skip asked.
The other Marine who was drinking with Wong was Leo, also a veteran of North’s strike team.
“Wong, let it go man,” Leo tried to pull Wong back to the bar, but the officer was too intoxicated and only grabbed air. Wong started towards Amberly with a sudden speed for someone who was obviously drunk, spewing obscenities. “You should be dead, Amberly Macready. You should be touring the cosmos as an icicle with your mother. They are all dead because of you. Synder. Anderson. Jindal. Topez. You killed them. You killed them all. Traitor! Traitor!”
Wong was close enough that he would reach Amberly in an instant. Skip jumped in front of Wong, and put his hand up to stop him. He did not expect Wong to backhand him with enough force to knock the wiry Skip on his butt.
Amberly moved to escape, but not before Wong got his hands around a tuft of Amberly’s hair, and yanked her to the ground, both of them falling hard. Amberly tried to pull away and landed some untrained blows on the Marine with her flailing fist
s. Wong just intensified his grip on her hair, and the shock of pain made Amberly yelp.
“You betrayed North, you bit –”
At this point, Skylar and Kato had entered the scuffle, and attempted to pull Wong off of Amberly, and force him to give up his grip on her hair.
“Wong, let her go,” Leo shouted. He had moved over to the scuffle. “That’s an order!”
Wong complied, and collapsed to the floor, and began to sob. Amberly recognized the bitter sadness in his painful tears; she had shed them many times herself. She pushed herself on the floor away from Wong, and Skylar scooped down to support her and held her as she started to cry as well.
“North’s probably dead, too,” Wong blustered. “We’re all broken. We’re all dead.”
“Of course, North’s not dead,” Skip said, confidently. “The Magnus is probably nearly at Waypoint Cortes by now.”
“Cortes went dark! North is dead!” Wong wailed, and started heaving. “You killed them, Amberly. You killed everyone on Cortes, too. You and your evil mother.” Kato and Skip had Wong fully restrained now.
“You want me to call the coppers, Amberly?” Kato said. “We can have them throw Wong in the brig.”
“No. No. He’s right. I am … responsible,” Amberly said, bringing her own emotions in check.
Kato and Skip pulled Wong to his feet. “You get the hell out of my bar,” Kato said to Wong. “I don’t want to see your ugly mug in here again.”
Leo took his fellow Marine by the arm. “Your grog is piss anyway,” Leo mumbled under his breath as the pair left. “It’s a wonder it can even get a man buzzed.”
“Get out of here. The both of you,” Kato thumbed toward the main door as the Marines exited.
Skylar turned Amberly’s head toward his, and steeled conviction in his eyes as he gazed solidly into hers. He took her cheeks in his hands. “Amberly, you are not responsible for the evil of Chasm. Moreno knows it. The governor knows it. I know it.”
“North didn’t blame you Amberly,” Skip said, and then remember the trial. “Okay, well, he did at the trial, but he didn’t mean it… I mean, I know what he said, but —”
A robotic female voice with an Irish accent piped up through the comm unit on Skips shirt sleeve. “Excuse me, Master Skip, I have an urgent—”
“I thought I told you not to call me Master Skip in public,” Skip spoke back to his VI, Mayflower. “And this isn’t a good time. Bye —”
“Yes, but you did tell me if I ever received a transmission from the Magnus, I should interrupt you no matter what.”
“Mayflower,” Amberly addressed the VI directly, “You received a communication from the Magnus? They broke radio silence.”
“Yes. The transmission is four months old.”
“They must be close to Cortes now,” Skyler surmised. “But this had to be transmitted well before they were close to Cortes.”
“Well, who was it from? What did it say?” Skip asked impatiently, with an extreme spike of excitement in his voice.
“I don’t know what it says,” Mayflower replied. “It’s from Magnus Executive Officer North, and it has been encrypted with a key that is owned by Amberly Macready.”
“Send that to Verne!” Amberly shouted and she ran out of the door. Skip, Kato and Skylar were left standing in her wake.
“So, Skip, how do you feel about the Philharmonic?” Skylar shrugged. “I may have an extra ticket.”
CHAPTER TWO
U.S.S Magnus, en route to Waypoint Cortes, July 7, 2603, Earth date, nine months after the Battle of Magellan.
After months of the tedium, something different happened on the bridge of the Magnus.
“Are you sure, ensign?” Captain Obadiah challenged the very junior officer.
“Yes, Captain,” said Ensign Rhodes, who had a bad habit of speaking loudly. “It’s weak, but I’m definitely getting a short-range distress signal!” Rhodes, just 16, was born just one year after the Magnus departed Earth with its secret mission to stop the expected Araran revolution. Her parents were both military intelligence officers, experts in insurgencies. Her mother, Darla, had even written a book theorizing what forms a waypoint rebellion might take. Rhodes’ pale face was framed by her dark, medium-length, bob-cut hair. Her blue-green eyes were piercing, appearing to glow with her hyperactive, youthful energy.
Rhodes was one of a half-dozen children born en route who were now part of the junior officer corps. Rhodes had dreams. If they didn’t get caught up too long in Arara, Rhodes figured she would be in her late 30s when she first set foot on the homeworld. She would be old enough to be an executive officer, perhaps even captain. It was not unheard of for a captain to be under 40 – but on much smaller ships than the mammoth Magnus.
“What’s the estimated distance to the source?” the captain asked.
Magnus’ virtual intelligence, Condi, answered the question with an artificially smooth, female voice. “By my calculations, the source of the signal is just under two million kilometers away. Unfortunately, we’ll need a seven degree change in our trajectory to intercept.”
Traveling at nearly half of the speed of light, Magnus required a significant amount of time and power to slow down the vessel enough to divert course.
Rhodes punched some inputs into the magnetic resonance three-dimensional screen floating at her station. She turned to the captain. “If we execute a course change now, we will overshoot the ship by 325,000 kilometers. That’s not too much back tracking, correct? We’re going to find out what this is, right?”
Condi’s disembodied voice chimed in. “That would delay our arrival at Cortes by 23 Earth days.”
“That’s 23 more days for Chasm to destroy or commandeer Cortes,” Obadiah mumbled. “Raven One’s warning would have reached Cortes two months ago. We get there in four months. Every moment we give them to prepare –”
The thought of finding a ship, lost in space so far out from a waypoint thrilled Rhodes. She had to convince the captain to make the detour to investigate. Cruising at a time-shortening velocity for hundreds of days was mundane and exceedingly boring. The Battle of Magellan had awoken a need for adventure in Rhodes; with one hit, she had become a junkie.
She had read many novels and seen plenty of deep space movies depicting desperate souls holding on for hope. I am living in one of those adventures, Rhodes thought. The thought brought a smile to her face.
“What are you smirking about?” the captain said, eyeing his most junior bridge officer.
“Sir, what would a Chasm-controlled Cortes be able to build that can stop the Magnus? What does it matter how much time they have to prepare?” Rhodes pressed. “Our tech is decades ahead of anything they are even aware of, and even more so than anything they possess.”
That is a fair point, the captain considered, as he stroked his grey beard. But he knew never to underestimate human ingenuity, especially when necessity demanded it.
“Ensign Rhodes,” the Captain said, in a tone more like a grandfather offering a life lesson than a commanding officer, “the people who first came out to populate the waypoints, and Arara herself, they were the best – the best – humanity had to offer. The brightest, most capable, most ambitious people. No doubt their offspring have benefitted from both the genetic advantage of their parentage and have been nurtured for greatness as well. We underestimate the resourcefulness of our adversary at great peril.”
“But we have a charge to save people,” Rhodes spouted rapidly. “There could be people near death, with us being the only hope of their survival. We are the only ship out here. We have a moral obligation to help save these lives.”
“A handful of lives for the 15,000 people on Cortes?” Obadiah had grown impatient.
“Maybe we can save them both?!” Rhodes spoke even more loudly, stood up and took a step toward her captain. He glared at her, and she shrunk back and choked out her next word. “I think it’s worth the risk. Sir.”
“What do you think, North?” The
captain sat back in his seat and swiveled toward his executive officer and Marine commander.
North was in prime physical shape. He let his thick brown hair grow past regulation length, but this far out in space, no one seemed to care. He pushed his bangs out of his deep brown eyes, leaned against a bulkhead, and studied a large tactical display on the opposite side of Magnus’ bridge.
Rhodes looked over at North, his strong arms and broad shoulders, and realized he was quite attractive. She had only known him for eight months, but he had been generous in helping her complete her junior officer training. He’s okay for an old guy, the teen thought. North was generally a good-natured and easy-going man, but the Battle of Magellan had left him both physically and emotionally scarred. He lost too many men. And had been betrayed by one of his closest friends and dearest loves – Amberly. The general good will of his younger self had given way to an edgier, darker cynicism.
Obadiah saw this hardness as a positive quality that wouldn’t make North a better person, but would make him a better solider for what seemed like a coming, unavoidable war. To win a war, one needed hardness, Obadiah believed, which led him to recruit North to be his second in command on the Magnus’ top-secret mission to destroy Chasm forever.
“This ship – if it is a ship – is from Cortes. There are no other ports near enough from which it could make berth,” North said. “We’ve had radio silence from Cortes for months now. Could be Chasm is jamming transmissions like they did to Magellan. Could be that Cortes is gone. Either way, radio silence almost certainly means Chasm is in control. My guess is that the people on that ship know – if it is a ship and not some floating debris, and if the people who started transmitting the distress signal are still alive.”
“Or their ghosts will tell us,” Rhodes pipped in. The captain cleared his throat and ignored her. Rhodes persisted. “Metaphorical ghosts of course. You know, vid recorders.”
“I’d say it’s worth the time lost,” North said. “That ship, or even logs from that ship, could give us a tactical assessment of what we are going to face when we arrive at Cortes. Help us cut through the fog of war. We won’t have to go into battle blind. I agree with what Ensign Rhodes noted, we have the technical advantage. Let’s see if we can have an intelligence advantage as well.”
