by L S Roebuck
The vanity was on the opposite side of the small suite. In one quick motion, Amberly bounded over to the vanity, pulling a chair from the eating table and sitting down. She was bending down to open the drawer when she caught sight of herself in the mirror screen. Her face was blotted with blood. She noticed a small laceration over her left ear. Once she saw it, she felt it.
“The first aid kit is in the top drawer,” Verne offered, predicting her next question.
Instead, Amberly grabbed a towel, reached over to the sink and moistened the artificial fiber cloth before pressing it to her ear. She pulled the lower drawer fully open, retrieved the key, and set next to her info pad on the main table. Immediately, the infopad sprung to life, as she saw a waving bar on the screen indicated the decoding progress.
“Thanks Verne,” Amberly said. “How long to decode?”
“Just two minutes,” the VI said.
Amberly hoped that the message would be in video — that she would be able to see the face of North, the man she scorned, the man she used, and now the man she couldn’t get over. However, the focused narrow band “tight beam” burst interstellar transmission protocols were usually thrifty, in order to accommodate maximum data, at least during normal operations, so a text message was more likely.
Verne interrupted Amberly’s thoughts, “Video message from North confirmed, sent nearly 120 days ago, July 9, 2603, Earth standard date. Shall I play it now?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Amberly said. She saw North’s face fill the screen. First, she noticed a five o’clock shadow on his normally clean-shaven face. Second, her heart fell when she saw that he wasn’t smiling his charming smile. His eyes were focused, but weary. Maybe even angry. She looked for friendship or love in those eyes, but she could detect none. Instantly, sweet, lonely tears began to run down Amberly’s face. The video buffered, and then began to play.
“Hey, Red. Long time,” North said, with a note of familiarity. “It’s been a hell of a year here on the Magnus. I know you are a survivor and believe in my heart you are well. I hope you are keeping an eye out for Skip. First of all, if you are not watching this alone, please ask everyone else to leave. This message is meant for your eyes only.”
Amberly knew she was alone, but still looked around her small flat, irrationally expecting to see someone who snuck in. The confidentially request was unexpected and confusing.
“Amberly,” North continued after a moment, “I am glad you gave me this encryption key. It was the best way we believed Magnus could communicate confidentially with Magellan leadership. Based on some intelligence we learned from Sparks, we believe that there could still be deep, deep sleeper Chasm agents on American Spirit and Magellan. Please share what I am about to say with only Commander Moreno and the civilian leader, who I assume is still Governor Rillio. We are confident that this channel with you is secure. Sparks believes that Chasm may have someone in central communications able to monitor official transmissions with military encryption access.”
The thought of Chasm agents still being active on Magellan made goosebumps crawl on Amberly’s arms and neck, and any feeling of security she had mustered in the last year seemed to be suddenly sucked into the vacuum of space.
“Although I’d love to hear the news from Magellan, please do not transmit back information unless absolutely necessary. The risk of Chasm knowing of the flight of the Magnus is too great, even with message encryption. Now, please listen very carefully and share this with Moreno and Thor. Don’t share this with anyone else, not even Skip or Kora, until Moreno has cleared it.”
Amberly reached out and touched the screen of the info pad, running her finger down the image of North’s chiseled cheek. She smeared a mixture of her tears and blood on the screen. “Oh, North, I’m so sorry,” Amberly ached aloud.
The recorded message continued. “Amberly, Waypoint Cortes is gone. Chasm destroyed it. By a miracle of God, we were able to recover three survivors from a runabout headed towards Magellan. Everyone else on the waypoint was murdered. I’ve attached the video of we recovered from the runabout and am playing it now.”
Images of the utter destruction of Chasm were now on the display. Complete brokenness. Floating death. “Stop playback.” Amberly shouted to Verne. “Stop playback!” Amberly couldn’t take it. Wong was right. Cortes was gone. Was she responsible? The amount of death was unthinkable. The emotional impact of the destruction of a waypoint was abstract up to this point for her. For someone who had spent her whole life on a waypoint, seeing a waypoint’s death was an existential crisis of faith.
“Playback paused,” Verne complied.
“Send an urgent message to Moreno. Tell her it’s North, and tell her its bad.”
The trio decided to meet clandestinely in Rita Moreno’s apartment. Governor Thor Rillio had just left a meeting with Magellan’s legislative council, and wore a rare orange formal jacket with buttons and blue ascot. Moreno, a petite, sharp featured, olive-skinned woman, was off duty, and she wore a floral-patterned yukata. She stood across the bar, which divided her living area and private kitchen, from Amberly and Thor. Amberly hadn’t seen the governor in a while, and noticed that he had lost a significant amount of weight. Apparently, the synthetic food most of Magellan was forced to eat during the rebuilding of the garden dome was not as appetizing to the rotund man.
“Holy God,” Thor muttered under his breath, as he watched the footage North retrieved from the Ironman and had shared with Amberly.
Once Moreno had heard that North had secretly contacted Amberly, she immediately summoned both Amberly and Thor to her place. Meeting in Marine HQ or at the government offices could have drawn unwanted attention.
Moreno knew that public attention had to be manipulated, to be engineered, in order to govern effectively. Rillio was no political novice, and under normal circumstances, was more than adequate for leading a waypoint. But times were not normal, and Thor was content to follow the cues of Moreno, whom he knew in his heart to be his superior in many ways.
Amberly hadn’t even stopped to clean her face before leaving. Her eyes were puffy red, tears had streamed through the blood caked on her face.
Moreno set two ornate tea cups on the bar in front of Thor and Amberly. “This will help you calm down, Amberly,” the officer said, as she filled each with hot water from an instatherm pitcher. Moreno’s pitcher was much fancier than Amberly’s; not only would it instantly heat water to the exact specified temperature, but it could also lower the temperature to near freezing. Then Moreno produced something which Amberly had not seen before — a real tea bag.
“The cups were passed down from my great, great grandmother. She was from Mexico City before the war. My mother told me the cups were the only things her great grandmother was able to save before the capital was laid waste.” Moreno explained as she dipped the tea bag into Amberly’s cup. Amberly looked at the intricate gold-plated baroque design, unlike anything she had ever seen before.
“The tea is Darjeeling from Arara,” Moreno continued. “A small luxury I afford myself whenever traders have bags available. I probably have fifty or so bags left. They may be the last bags I’ll ever have if Magnus can’t right things with the colony.”
Moreno pulled the bag out of Amberly’s cup and slipped it into Thor’s. “Mother said back on Earth, they would use the bag for only one cup, and then throw it away. Throw it away.” Moreno produced a third cup, and then after bobbing the bag in Thor’s cup a few more times, slipped it into the empty cup she placed in front of her place at the bar. She punched in a much higher temperature on the instatherm than what she poured in Amberly and Thor’s cup.
“I like my tea scalding,” she explained.
Amberly took a sip of her tea. It tasted agreeable and did have an unexpected calming effect, Amberly thought. She felt the rare porcelain’s sheen under her fingers, and the warmth seemed to conduct through the cup into her body.
As if she could read Amberly’s thoughts, Moreno responded. “Yo
u see Amberly, this is what we are fighting for. The beauty of Earth – the cup – and the industry of Arara – the tea – and how much better they are together. Synergy. The cup gives you no pleasure without the tea, and the tea cannot be enjoyed without the cup. We are partners, Earth and Arara. Chasm doesn’t understand that the legacy of the cup enhances the tea, makes it superior, gives it power. Nothing you can measure, but real all the same.”
Amberly nodded, feeling her youthful inexperience. “I understand,” she felt compelled to say.
“So now that we know what Chasm is up to, doesn’t that mean it will be easier for us to stop them, if they even have sleeper agents here? I mean we’re looking for them,” Thor suggested, also now sipping his tea. “Then again, what if this Sparks is lying to North. Just trying to cause trouble or keep us off balance?”
Amberly stared into her cup. “I think we can trust Sparks. I have this feeling about her. When she gave up and stopped the American Spirit from ramming Magellan, I think she really knew it was over for Chasm. She’s one of us.”
“You did have a gun pointed at her,” Thor reminded Amberly.
“And a good thing, too,” Moreno chimed in. “Your actions saved us all. Too many people have forgotten that.”
“So, what does this message mean, besides we should all be praying for Magnus and her crew?” Thor asked.
“Thomas Paine once said that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. This has never been more apt. We have to be ready should the Magnus fail, and Chasm take control of Arara. We have to be ready if they return to finish the job that your mother started,” Moreno looked to Amberly. “It’s time for us to think outside of the box, or perhaps, outside of the waypoint.”
“What do you mean?” Amberly was curious.
“We hardly have enough resources on this waypoint to rebuild the damage caused by the bombardment of the American Spirit. There is no way we can make what we need to defend ourselves against a Chasm warship. We need materials to fix our antimatter reactors, to build military defenses. We need materials we don’t have on the waypoint.”
“Do you think Chasm has warship?”
“Until we hear back from a successful Magnus, we must assume they will create a weapon to finish severing Arara from Earth,” Moreno said. “We have to prepare for that eventuality. We know they are willing to destroy an entire waypoint. A handful of corvettes with chain guns may not be enough to defend our home.”
Amberly, Thor and Moreno all awkwardly took a slurp of tea at the same time. Moreno smiled, then set her cup and saucer down.
“Thor, North’s message proves we need someone we can trust to lead this project,” Moreno said, taking another sip. “And that the project needs to be conducted in a clandestine fashion. If Chasm finds out about the project, we’ll lose the element of surprise at best. At worst, a Chasm agent would sabotage the whole project.”
“What project are you talking about?” Amberly felt like all she was doing was asking questions and getting no answers, recalling when Chasm operatives Dek, the now deceased Joti, and Sparks lead her on with teases of secrets of her mother. This time, however, she wouldn’t have to sell her soul for the answer, because Moreno was quite forthcoming.
“Amberly, Thor and I would like for you to lead our secret efforts to establish a resource colony in the Spencer Belt. We want to reopen Fuentes Station, with you as the outpost commander.”
“Me? I’m only twenty! I’m a scientist. I don’t… I couldn’t…”
“A fault that everyone is cured of eventually, too soon, I think, my daughter,” Thor said. Amberly didn’t like the way he said daughter. It seemed condescending and patronizing. And yet, what they were asking her to do was not the task assigned to a child.
“Trust is the most important quality,” Moreno said, walking around the bar and taking Amberly’s hands into hers. “Everything else you can learn on the job. You have million-watt brightness in your genes. But trust you either have or you don’t. And I trust you, Amberly Macready. I trust you with my life. And so does the governor.”
Thor smiled at Amberly. “You’re a true hero in my book. But you know that. More importantly, North trusts you.”
“Hah,” Amberly chortled sarcastically. “North doesn’t trust me. How could you even say that after what he said? After what he did?”
“Simple. North sent you the message,” Moreno said. “Why would he do that if he didn’t believe that you were on the side of the good guys?”
Amberly smiled slightly. She didn’t have answer for that.
“Amberly, you’ve shown remarkable leadership this past year, helping to keep the Science Corp together, leading that team in tremendous loss, in helping us remember what we are all about, as Magellans, citizens of our waypoint, our home.”
“You’ll need to assemble a team of people who are absolutely loyal to you, people who are capable and innovative under pressure. People who are willing to cut themselves off from those they love in the short term.”
Amberly was beginning to understand. “What are you suggesting? That we fake my death to cover up the project?”
“You see, Thor, she does catch on quickly,” Moreno smiled again.
“We’re figuring it all out,” Thor explained. “You have about a month to quietly put together your team. Then maybe we’ll stage your demise – well I guess your whole team’s demise – by year’s end. Then you’ll have a few years to get the station operational.”
“We have the tech advantage over Chasm,” Moreno followed. “They are right to think Waypoint and Colony Command on Earth isn’t sharing all the good stuff. Fortunately, Captain Obadiah left us specifications, designs and training data so we can create the long-range beam weapons that made Magnus so effective in thwarting off the American Spirit attack.
“Once you have Fuentes Station operational and collecting critical resources – ores, water, you know – from the Spencer Belt, and we are confident we can defend the new operation for Chasm saboteurs, we’ll bring you back from the dead.”
“I don’t know. Lost in space. Fake death? Hiding out at Sonnet? Sounds strangely similar what my mother did,” Amberly rubbed her brow.
“You have been to the Spencer Belt? To Sonnet?”
Amberly thought about the last time few times she went to the Spencer Belt, a group of a thousand or so charitable asteroids orbiting the low mass stellar object known has HD 238921 or Spencer Minorum. She was on a date gone awry with North at the Shard Caves on Sonnet, the largest asteroid in the Spencer Belt.
“You’ll have a window of about 12 months to get established. Fortunately, with the drive core upgrades that came on Magnus, our runabouts have enough increased range and speed that expand the accessibility window,” Thor explained. “What do you say, Amberly, do you want to be the next commander of Fuentes Station?”
Amberly thought of the last commander of Fuentes Station, who was murdered three decades before she was even born. Magellan hoped to dominate her neighbors economically with the raw resources of the Spencer Belt. But hardship drove one of the pioneers mad, and she sabotaged the asteroid base by killing everyone on Sonnet, including herself.
“Amberly, if we can bring Fuentes Station back in play, up to operational status, it will make it that much harder for Chasm to win. Fuentes Station will help reinforce the chain between Earth and Arara. It will help ensure the viability of Magellan now that we’ve most certainly lost Arara as a supplier,” Thor continued.
“You know how hard things have been since the attack,” Moreno made her case. “A productive Fuentes Station is hope. You could really help bring things back to normal.”
Normal. That is an enticing fiction, Amberly thought. We’ll never have normal again. But getting closer to normal, even a small amount, would be good.
Moreno pressed. “Amberly, Waypoint Magellan needs you to be a hero again. We need you to lead this mission.”
“With all due respect, I am no hero,” Amberly said, and then after
a long pause continued. “How long do I have to decide?”
“How long do you need?” the Governor said. “Amberly, we don’t have a backup plan.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Waypoint Magellan, December 12, 2603, Earth date, 14 months after the Battle of Magellan.
Over the course of several weeks, Amberly had come to enjoy the company of Skylar Trigs.
At 28 years old, he was mature enough to be taken seriously and be elected to the Magellan Council in the Thanksgiving Election, but he still projected a boyish charm that helped Amberly find Skylar ... fun.
Amberly welcomed the diversion. Working in secret to assemble a team to recolonize the Spencer Belt had been more stressful than Amberly had anticipated. So much was riding on her to repair things. She saw this new project as a means to redemption; that maybe, just maybe, if she was successful, she could right the wrongs that she caused. Maybe North would forgive me, if he comes back, Amberly thought.
“Look, our first new crop of corn,” Skylar pointed to a section of the topside garden that had once again begun to produce fresh food. Over the past month, the pair took regular strolls in the topside garden. Before the Chasm uprising, Amberly had little access to enjoy the greenery of the gardens. But Amberly the War Hero was afforded many privileges, some that made her feel indulgently guilty. As a Freshman member of the Waypoint Council, Trigs enjoyed perks as well.
Amberly’s eyes followed the crop line toward the topside garden’s transparent dome. She winced when she saw the now-repaired dome, recalling where, during the Battle of Magellan, Sparks had intentionally crashed her runabout. Amberly had nearly died leaping from a spacecraft through that now-sealed fissure to the surface of the gardens. To see so much life-sustaining soil and plants sucked out in space reminded Amberly how bad things had gotten, and just how much damage Chasm had caused – damage for which she had been partially responsible.
