Star Marque Rising

by Shami Stovall

  The armed men—soldiers under the admiral's command—walked to the Star Marque in pairs. Endellion tightened her hands into fists, but she said nothing. What could she say? Felseven had her by the metaphorical balls.

  He hadn't been this brazen before. He hadn't even bothered to see her when we were here last. I blamed Minister Felseven back on Vectin-14. That asshole must have said something that got under Governor Felseven's skin.

  “If we find even one violation, you could be through,” Felseven said. “Will we find anything?”

  Endellion narrowed her eyes.

  “Will we?” Felseven pressed. “I do hope so.”

  I wanted to say something—no, I wanted to get this assassination underway right then—but I kept my anger in check. Knowing Endellion, she was already plotting his death four stages in advance.

  The soldiers marched by, leaving ten on the dock while 30 got to scouring the ship. We had broken lots of regulations, and I was certain they would find over half of them. The real question was: could they strip Endellion's title for minor infractions? Or would they uncover something deeper?

  “Commodore,” Lysander said, his voice audible through Endellion's enviro-suit comms. “Men from the station have come to search the ship. Should we stop them?”

  Resisting was tantamount to attacking Felseven. We would be arrested, and then our problems would double.

  “Don't interfere,” Endellion said. “Allow the admiral's men to search the ship as they please.”

  “Yes, Commodore Voight.”

  The communication ended, leaving us in strained silence.

  Felseven patted Endellion on the shoulder, his elongated smile showing his sharp, white teeth. I hated that he'd touched her. Every move he made dared me to lose control.

  “You're quiet,” Felseven said, his voice low. “My nephew said you made quite the impression on Vectin-14. What's wrong? You aren't as marvelous or composed as the other ministers thought you were.” He brought his hand up and patted her cheek. “You should stay quiet. It's a better look for you.”

  Endellion clenched her jaw, but forced a smile. “Better men than you have tried to silence me. This won't have any effect on my governorship.” She stepped back, distancing herself from Felseven.

  “Oh, I'm certain it'll determine your governorship, actually. Once you lose the title of commodore, it won't matter what else happens. And then I'll win. Ontwenty and her constituents will fail. You'll go back to being an enforcer captain, so long as you aren't harboring something abhorrent on your starship. Because if you are, I'll see you imprisoned. Either way, you'll be right where you belong.”

  “Or I'll report this gross misuse of power, and everything you do here will be overturned,” Endellion said, her voice just as calm as always.

  “We both know you can't move faster than the information passed along the relays. By the time you make it back to Vectin-14, it'll be too late. You'll have been removed from the list of potential governors, and the votes will be cast.”

  The timing was tight, like all Endellion's plans. The more I thought about the situation, the more I realized there was a real possibility that we wouldn't be able to prevent her from losing her title or her capacity to become a planet governor. I hadn't seen the situation coming, and I doubted Endellion had seen it, either. Felseven had gone far out of his way to fuck her.

  Admiral Gaeleven spoke with the ten remaining soldiers, a look of disinterest set in the shallow wrinkles of his face. When he walked over, he ignored Endellion and me completely. “Are we done here, Governor?” Gaeleven asked, a slow and deep tone about his voice. “We should be down planetside, meeting with our peers.”

  Endellion gave him a quick nod. “Admiral Gaeleven. Surely you don't share Governor Felseven's perverse pleasure in this game of politics? I've worked tirelessly for the Federation. You can confirm that with Admiral Vanine.”

  “She's pleading with you,” Felseven said with a chuckle.

  Admiral Gaeleven didn't smile or share in Felseven's mirth. Instead, he sneered and turned his attention to Endellion. “I remember the times when the United-Earth Homo sapiens mismanaged this quadrant, Commodore Voight. I also remember why we're here in the first place—to settle the edge of space, to improve and cultivate our civilization throughout the stars. Consolidating power into a single location with the Stella Engine, and extending rulership back to the failed Homo sapiens, are the exact mistakes history has taught us to avoid.”

  His sentence had a finality that killed all conversation. Gaeleven offered Felseven a glare, turned on his heel, and strode off, his military background so ingrained into his person that it showed through the disciplined snap of his enviro-suit's boots.

  “I've followed your career,” Felseven said. “Ambitious upstarts like yourself always turn to desperation. Undoubtedly, you came here at Ontwenty's behest, thinking she would be your ticket to governorship. I see right through your plans, and I'll have none of it. You're out of your league.”

  Then he walked off, smug and confident in his assessments.

  Endellion could get desperate, but I didn't blame her. Everything was cutthroat, especially on Capital Station. That didn't change the reality, however. If Felseven stripped her title, what would Endellion do to recover?

  I didn't think she would be able to.

  * * *

  “Have you heard anything?” Lysander asked.

  I paced the front of the officer's conference room and shook my head. Capital Station would be the end of me. I thought I had escaped it forever, but it was like a goddamn black hole—not even light escaped it. Without the ability to leave the dock, we were stuck until Felseven and his admiral buddy concluded their investigation.

  “Why hasn't Endellion made any statements?” Quinn asked.

  I shook my head. “She and Sawyer have been in discussions for the last three hours. They refuse to speak to anyone.”

  Discussions, my ass. Endellion made demands, and Sawyer answered them. They were trying to think of something, but I wished they would do so in front of the other officers.

  Quinn, Lysander, Dr. Clay, and I didn't occupy even ten percent of the room. Our voices echoed, and the numerous empty chairs made our conversation feel like we were playing pretend. We needed more crew members, but that was a problem we would have to deal with later.

  Dr. Clay leaned back, his bony fingers laced together over his chest. “What're the chances Endellion will have the political pull to escape this mire we've found ourselves in?”

  “She'll figure something out,” Quinn said. “She always does. The problem will be when and how. And there's another issue.”

  “The defects,” Lysander intoned. “I already know.”

  “Exactly. I don't think we'll be able to keep any of them if Felseven discovers their presence.”

  I didn't even need to ask why. Sawyer had told me a while back that defects who required medication to function weren't legally capable of being enforcers. Lysander, Noah, and Mara would be forced to resign. Even imagining it brought me to the edge of rage. Those three didn't deserve any more shit, not after the ordeals they had gone through. Felseven's trap couldn't have come at a worse time.

  “What should I tell the ground enforcers?” Lysander asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “For right now we don't know what's going on. There's no need to worry everyone by twisting their panties. Endellion will think of something or Sawyer will find a loophole in the laws, we just need to wait.”

  Dr. Clay narrowed his eyes. “What if Endellion is arrested? How will you—the new captain of the Star Marque—uphold her promises?”

  “What the fuck did I just say?” I asked, damn near shouting. “We're not going to worry about that. Endellion isn't going to be arrested. And even if she is, it won't be for long.”

  “But what if?”

  “Then I'll fulfill her promises, okay? That's what I'll do. Satisfied?”

  “Look,” he said. “I didn't join this stars
hip because I wanted to. I joined because of those promises. If you can't keep them, tell me now, so I'll know to leave your crew if you become the captain.”

  I slammed my hand down on the conference table, enjoying the bite of metal against my palm. It fueled my anger but somehow calmed me at the same time, like it reassured my mind that I had control of something, even if it was as insignificant as destroying my surroundings or causing myself harm.

  “Get out of here,” I said. “You got your answer.”

  Dr. Clay stood and headed for the door. He said nothing as he exited, but I didn't care. While Endellion had wanted him, and he'd helped out the crew, I would have been content dumping him and finding someone else to fill his jumpsuit.

  Quinn and Lysander stared at me. I looked away, a little shaken by their furrowed brows and searching eyes. They wanted me to come up with a solution? Both of them had been on this rig longer than I had. They knew the drill. But making decisions came with the territory of vice-captain.

  “Continue as normal,” I said. “I'll speak with Endellion and relay any information I think you'll find interesting.”

  They replied with nods.

  * * *

  I entered Endellion's quarters in the middle of a night cycle. I hadn't been able to sleep, and we were pushing the 30 hour mark. None of the soldiers would allow the enforcers to leave the dock. Restless energy filled the corridors, and half the crew spent their day either going through the motions or getting wasted in the mess hall. The morale hit an all-time low at hour 24. Apparently an investigation that ran longer than 24 hours meant genetic testing had been ordered. No one wanted to hear that.

  Although the lights were off when I entered, I knew immediately that Endellion was in the room. I couldn't see her, but her breathing betrayed her presence.

  “I thought you were with Sawyer,” I whispered.

  She walked to my side and ran a hand along my jaw. “Take off your suit.”

  I complied with her command. Endellion had a bitter scent to her—it matched the atmosphere. Once I was undressed, she pushed me toward the bed. I was prepared to get on my back and let her run the show, but she stopped me.

  “Touch me,” she said.

  She was already undressed, but my shock lasted half a second at most. I ran both hands over her body, enjoying the smooth feeling of warm flesh. Part of me wanted to pound this out—to get the relief from a long day of stress—but when Endellion pressed her lips against mine, everything became slow and gentle.

  Not like the other times. We had never done anything so romantic, for lack of a better term. Our sex had been athletic and fulfilling, sating us both in carnal ways, not emotional ones. I supposed some emotions were always involved, but not like this.

  Endellion tumbled with me onto the bed and pulled me on top of her. We had done this position before, but rough and animalistic. Again, she took her time, her tongue in my mouth, her legs wrapped around my hips. I kept my eyes closed and enjoyed the taste of her.

  But then Endellion broke away, her breath on my chin.

  “Tell me everything will be fine,” she said.

  I caught my breath, taken aback by her comment.

  I recovered enough to say, “Everything will be fine.”

  “You'll stay by my side after this, won't you?”

  “Of course.” I kissed her neck and shoulder.

  Endellion and I locked together, falling into a comfortable rhythm, but I could tell her mind wasn't in the situation.

  “Sawyer and I discussed a few options,” she whispered into my ear. “Some of them will cost me a great deal, but I refuse to lose here. Do you understand? I refuse to be beaten.”

  “I know.”

  “I don't think you understand. I won't let anything stop me. Ever.”

  “I understand. Trust me. I do.”

  She dropped the conversation, and we returned to kissing, connected at two points, heated at every surface. I couldn't take the gentleness of it any longer. I sped up, lust fueling me, and she didn't protest. Endellion moaned like she never had before—sensual and promising, like she was telling me she had waited a lifetime for this moment. It was enough to push me over the edge.

  Breathing deep and satisfied, I stroked her arm and nibbled her flesh. “I'll be ready again in a moment,” I said between heavy pants.

  “I contacted another commodore in the area,” she said as she untwisted her legs from my hips. “And Sawyer has discovered that the starfighters we used at Outpost Station—the ones using the rebellion's operating system—aren't affected by the Capital Station holding program.”

  “So, we can leave?” I asked, unmoving.

  “We can use the starfighters, yes.”

  “Can they make it to the commodore's ship?”

  “Yes. And we may need to make the journey, if Felseven wishes to push this situation.”

  I knew she would think of something. I exhaled and rested on top of her, though I propped myself up on my elbows. The distance in her voice gave me pause, however.

  “What's wrong?” I asked. “What do you think will happen?”

  “I don't know.”

  She said nothing else.

  It was bullshit. She knew. Endellion would never sit around without a contingency plan. I wondered if I should push the issue, then decided I would wait and see what she had in mind instead.

  “Endellion,” Sawyer said over the comms. “Felseven has requested your presence on Capital Station.”

  Endellion stroked the back of my neck. “It's time we settled this.”

  “All right,” I said, hesitant.

  Settle what? Did she still intend to kill the man? It would be suspicious if it happened right after Felseven had threatened her. There would be no denying her motives or opportunity. No. Endellion wouldn't be that brash or brazen. She must have had some other idea in mind.

  She must have.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ELEVENTH HOUR

  Endellion and I stood in a courtroom on Capital Station, the audience empty, and the walls lined with Gaeleven's soldiers. I had seen a fair number of courtrooms on Capital Station. Section Six had the chem courts—the colloquial term for “courts that dealt with gangs and repeat offenders”—and Section Two had the zoning courts for businesses, new homes, and the switching of room designations.

  But I had never seen the courtroom we were in before.

  Unlike most areas in the space station, the ceiling curved upward, like two sheets of metal had been posted together to form an upside-down V. It gave the room an open feeling, but the hard lines reminded me that we weren't planetside. Everything from the Federation codes etched into the duralumin walls to the cold convict box screamed high-level authority. I would have bet my life the courtroom operated four days out of the year. It was a special courtroom, meant for political figures, infamous felons, and military tribunals.

  Admiral Gaeleven stood at the center computer terminal. His screen projected in front of him but also on the back wall, displaying the charges and penalties for the whole room to see. The list scrolled for some time as he spoke.

  “—and after a thorough investigation of the vanguard-class starship, Star Marque, we have discovered the following misconduct.” Gaeleven cleared his throat. “18 counts of defect employment, one count of stolen intellectual property, 53 counts of digital tampering, and three counts of abuse of power.”

  Governor Felseven waited on the side, as did two other superhumans I had never met, no doubt planet governors themselves, considering their fancy enviro-suits and smug smiles. Strands of their silver hair reflected the artificial lighting like polished metal. The opposition against Ontwenty must have been high.

  Gaeleven lifted an eyebrow. “You've used your position as commodore to pardon crimes you had no business pardoning. And to make the matter infinitely worse, you've hidden your own defect status from the Federation. How do you plead?”

  The last bit shook me. I snapped my attention to Endellion, bu
t she didn't meet my gaze.

  She was a defect? Impossible. There was no way. I had never seen her—

  But then a million tiny details made sense. Why had she wanted a doctor who specialized in defect procedures? It wasn't for the members of her crew. Why had she been so worried about scars, when healing vats could remove almost any damage? I had never seen her use one. Because she couldn't. And her cyborg implants caused her trouble from time to time. Some must have functioned to negate whatever troubles she had. The entire time—from the moment she was born, to the cusp of governorship—she'd made it all the way from the lowest ranks of circumstance and society.

  Defects couldn't have titles.

  No matter what Ontwenty or her constituents said, once that fact got out, Endellion would never be able to become a planet governor. Ever.

  “I contest the findings,” Endellion said, cold and unfeeling.

  My heart beat hard enough for the both us. Anger and indignation burned at my core, but what could I do about it? What was there to do about it?

  “We'll log your complaint,” Gaeleven said. “And we'll order a second set of investigations to verify the first. In the meantime, you are suspended from duty until further notice. Should your title and position be revoked, I will have two of my frigates escort you back to Vectin-14 for final confirmation.”

  Endellion nodded. “You're too kind.”

  “If there are no further comments?” Gaeleven turned to the others in the room.

  The governors, court recorders, and soldiers remained still and quiet. No one said anything. I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd said they could hear my pulse run hot from across the room.

  “Then this hearing is adjourned.”

  * * *

  Endellion had never told me about her genetic defect.

  I stood in front of my starfighter, staring at the open door, my mind unable to move forward. It changed a lot. I'd thought she could recover her title and position—so long as she called in a few favors from her superhuman buddies—but nothing would make her defect go away. Endellion should have told me about the problem, but she'd banked on exiting the enforcer business as soon as possible. Six more months, and it wouldn't have been an issue. No one would've ever found out.