Star Marque Rising

by Shami Stovall

  The moment I lined up my first shot, I fired.

  Light from the hyperweapon matched the intensity of the flames all around the space station. The bolt sliced through Dock One, carving out a hole, weakening the structural integrity. I flew past the dock as a solid, metal beam broke away from the station.

  “Demarco!”

  I rolled around it, half a millimeter from clipping its side. I passed through a wave of heat trailing off the side of the station. It shook my fighter, threatening to tear it apart, but I burst through the opposite side and prepared for another run.

  “Wait,” Sawyer said. “I need to be aboard. Don't fire until I've docked to the ship.”

  The knowledge hindered my actions. Capital Station tore apart at a fearsome rate. A chunk of Dock Seven rose into the flames and burst into a flare of light, exploding and sending debris in all directions.

  Sawyer flew toward Dock One, and my chest tightened until I could no longer breathe. It was hard to watch her dot on my screen—even after everything that had happened. I had never seen her pilot a starfighter before, and each obstacle shot at her faster than the last.

  Her speed and acceleration remained minimal, but she moved with precision. When a cluster of metal chunks spiraled out of control, she dove into them, saving time by making a straight line for her destination. I ground my teeth, waiting for her dot to disappear from my screen, but it never happened.

  Sawyer had made it.

  Capital Station entered the thermosphere, a pyre of massive proportions.

  I dove back in, knowing it could be the last of me. My starfighter protested the action, flashing warnings like a strobe light. I held the side-sticks tight, the muscles in my arms and hands strained from the grip, more so than any workout I had ever done. A lesser man might've been shaken or rendered unconscious from the fluctuating G-forces, but I was no ordinary man.

  “Now, Demarco. Do it now!”

  Time wasn't an ally. I rushed in.

  My target appeared in front of me, along with a wall of atmospheric fire. I continued, aiming with the computer readout alone, picturing my target in my mind's eye. The flames and debris blocked my path, and my starfighter's computer told me they would destroy the hull. When I was certain I was lined up, I fired.

  The hyperweapon pierced through the veil of searing heat, and I traveled through as soon as there was a semi-clear path. My blinding bolt smashed into Dock One, blasting it free from Capital Station.

  I decelerated, my starship caught between turbulence and breaking apart. If I didn't dock right then, I never would.

  The Star Marque moved away from the crumbling mass of Capital Station, a section of Dock One still clinging to its hull, like a spider of metal and wires. Unlike starfighters—which had the speed, size, and mobility to avoid objects—the Star Marque took strike after strike of debris as it pulled away from the planet.

  Struggling to maintain my focus, I followed the starship, my navigation advising me to wait until it docked before I rejoined the ship. Impossible. I couldn't wait any longer.

  To my relief and surprise, a navigation course appeared on my screen, detailing the speed and angle at which I needed to dock. It was Sawyer's doing; there was no doubt in my mind. I accepted her assistance and maintained my speed straight to my docking port.

  The Star Marque lifted upward, shadowed by fractured pipes, bits of generators, and a hailstorm of metal. I landed at my port, my fighter scratched but not punctured. Once my ship locked into place, I breathed again, though I didn't remember when I had stopped in the first place.

  Rumbling filled my ears as the Star Marque broke free from the outer atmosphere and sped away from Galvis-4. I didn't need to see the outside of the ship to know we were still carrying a section of the dock with us. It would be there until we landed again, until we could get a crew to wrench it off.

  I stepped out of my cockpit and almost tumbled to the ground.

  My left leg wouldn't support me. My calf hung limp, and my body rebelled against every action I took. I held onto the bulkhead as I dragged myself forward. White noise clouded my thoughts. The reality had yet to settle in.

  “This is Ground Commander Lysander Jevons,” Lysander said over the ship's comms. “All non-flight enforcers are to return to their capsules and remain there until further notice. I repeat, all non-flight enforcers are to return to their capsules and remain there until further notice.”

  My breath became ragged. Although there was a hole in my calf, the plasma bolt had cauterized the wound, preventing me from bleeding out. I stumbled forward, my destination set.

  “Demarco?”

  Quinn ran to my side. She grabbed my arm, attempting to help me, but I pushed her away.

  “What's going on?” she asked as she reached to support my weight again.

  I shoved her off. “Leave me. Take care of the others.”

  “Demarco… I have no idea what's happened.”

  “Where's Sawyer?” I asked, ignoring her question.

  “She's in the officer's conference room. She's been distraught since she returned. Where's Endellion?”

  I pressed forward, glaring down the narrow corridor but seeing nothing. A handful of enforcers ran past me, their breathing frantic and their hands shaking.

  “It's Capital Station,” one shouted.

  Another added, “This can't be happening!”

  Quinn hesitated. She shifted her weight, a visible debate etched into her face—would she follow me or deal with the enforcers? Quinn opted to rush after the enforcers, leaving me to my trek.

  I reached the lift, entered with unsteady feet, and slammed my fist onto the controls, hitting Deck One. The travel didn't quell my troubled mind. Each second heightened my anger and frustration. Endellion had left. She'd left. We'd barely made it out alive, but she hadn't even been interested in our safety. The Star Marque had “served its purpose”—that was what she had said.

  Endellion didn't want or need the Star Marque any longer. It had been another rung on her ladder. Another pawn in her game.

  Like me.

  I exited onto Deck One, my pulse high. The bulkhead supported my weak body as I made my way to the officer's conference room. Halfway there, I reached a room with transparent, metal alloy, providing a window into space.

  I stopped, transfixed by the sight of Capital Station hitting the surface of Galvis-4. In my mind, there would have been a deafening boom to follow the visuals of the massive explosion, but the event played out in silence, like God Himself had muted the world. The destruction lasted for several seconds. Flares of light, followed by plumes of blackness. The black spot in the atmosphere didn't fade. It lingered, a pockmark across the planet, a crematorium for a million incinerated corpses.

  Unable to stare at the devastation any longer, I turned away and finished my journey. When I reached the conference room, I opened the door, my gaze turning to Sawyer. She paced near the back computer terminal, running both hands through her red hair.

  She stopped and looked up at me.

  I had never seen her look so frantic or fearful. She exuded both emotions, so much so that I could smell them. Sweat clung to her jumpsuit, and she took a step back when I entered the room. If her weakened endocrine system meant she couldn't feel emotions as well as the standard schmoe, then it must have taken an extra amount of feeling to actually rile her. If she were normal, I'd bet she would have been on the verge of hysteria.

  When the door shut behind me, silence settled between us.

  Sawyer backed up into the bulkhead, her legs shaking. “Demarco,” she muttered. “I…”

  I hobbled over, my body broken in more places than one. Despite that, I steeled myself. Rage rage poisoned my blood, driving me to think unspeakable things.

  I continued until I stood a few centimeters in front of her, my gaze neutral, but my muscles tense. Sawyer stared up at me, her grayish-blue eyes searching mine, like she wanted to read the answer to her unspoken questions.

 
“You helped her,” I murmured.

  Sawyer shook her head. “No. I didn't know.”

  “Don't fuck with me, Sawyer,” I said, my volume rising, and my throat rasping out each word. “You helped her. You made all this possible.”

  “She never told me she was going to do this. I thought—I mean—I just didn't know.”

  I grabbed her by the collar of her jumpsuit and pulled her close. Sawyer held my forearm for support but didn't struggle. Her trembling hands and watery eyes cut at me, but I pushed my pity aside.

  “You made it possible for her to alter Capital Station's course.”

  “I swear, I didn't know,” she whispered. “You were there, too. Did you know before it happened?”

  I didn't, and for a moment, I reflected on my own outrage. Endellion must've known no one would support her mass genocide, but she'd banked on us following her once she'd pulled the trigger. And Sawyer had.

  “You were going to go with her,” I said. “You didn't even protest.”

  Sawyer knitted her eyebrows together, her breath shaky. “I owe Endellion everything.”

  “Explain.”

  “She saved me from General Lone, even though he offered a reward for my return. I… I told Endellion I would be with her to the end, so long as she took me on the ship, away from Vectin-10. I couldn't… I didn't think to say anything… but I couldn't leave you, either. I abandoned her after I had time to think. I came back, but I didn't know what she'd do ahead of time.”

  “Endellion saved you from one superhuman, and you were willing to let a whole space station die for it?”

  “You don't understand!” Sawyer looked away, tears streaming down her cheeks and connecting at her chin. I didn't let go of her, and she tightened her grip on my wrist. “I wasn't his first,” she said through stuttered breathing. “He had so many others before me. N-No one knew. He had them made just like he wanted, and then he threw them away when he was done. I was—I was next. If Endellion hadn't been there—if I had stayed one more day—I would've been shredded down for genetic scrap.”

  I narrowed my eyes, piecing together her broken story. Some superhumans had made people in test tubes. They'd made them just the way they wanted them. And then they fucked with them—literally and metaphorically. General Lone would've killed Sawyer and moved on to the next thing he'd made for his amusement. Apparently, when humanity created better versions of themselves, they couldn't design away their cruelty.

  “I'm sorry,” Sawyer said, strained but more in control. “I… I understand what I've done, I just never thought… I didn't think it would be like this.” She wiped at her eyes, and then returned her gaze to mine. “I understand if you hate me… if you don't trust me. You… you're the only person I've ever connected with outside of Endellion. I couldn't leave you. I knew I wanted to be with you more than her, even if I owe her a duty I can't repay. So, please… If you're going to send me away, just kill me.”

  Her request struck me at my core. Kill her? She had acted as Endellion's tool. She'd helped bring about the death of over a million people. But were tools ultimately to blame?

  “Make it quick,” Sawyer whispered, never breaking her gaze from me. “P-Please. General Lone would drag out the pain for hours… I don't want to live through it again, Demarco. Please.”

  I eased my grip on her collar, knowing what she meant without needing her to spell out the details. General Lone was a sadist. If he went through multiple people, throwing them away when he was done, then he had a specific fetish most would never speak of.

  I grabbed the zipper of Sawyer's jumpsuit and opened it past her collarbone.

  Her eyes went wide, and she dug her fingernails into the skin of my arm, her whole body trembling. “Anything but this,” Sawyer pleaded.

  I wasn't going to touch her, but I opened the jumpsuit to gaze at her skin—to see the parts she always hid. It was just a thought.

  Scars.

  So many gnarled, terrible scars.

  And I hadn't seen much—just the patch of skin under her neck and above her breasts—but I knew they were all over. She never sat right in her chair, and she hugged herself at points, hiding away. He'd tortured her. That was what General Lone had done.

  Sawyer waited through my silent staring, her shaking form difficult to watch.

  I zipped her jumpsuit back up and released her. “I helped her destroy Capital Station,” I said. “I was there, confirming each step. If I were going to kill you, I might as well put a plasma bolt through my head as well.”

  Sawyer crossed her arms tight over her chest. “You won't send me away?”

  “No. You helped me save the Star Marque. And I owe you my life.”

  She closed her eyes. “But what will we do now, Demarco? Endellion is en route to meet with Ontwenty's commodore associate, and the Star Marque is in no condition to follow—not when part of Dock One is still attached to the hull.”

  “We let her go,” I said. “For now. When everything settles, when we've got our bearings—then we'll find her.”

  And she would answer for what she had done.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  STAR MARQUE RISING

  “—and when the station became caught in Galvis-4's gravitational pull, Vice-Captain Clevon Demarco and Chief Cyber Operations Officer Sawyer Coda risked life and limb to wrench the Star Marque from the jaws of death,” Lysander said, his voice carrying a regal tone.

  Although he addressed the enforcers in the largest training room on Deck Three, I watched with Sawyer in her workroom, away from the others.

  Cheers, clapping, and the stomping of feet sounded over the speakers. Lysander called for everyone to remain quiet, and the crew complied.

  “The cause of the disaster is still unknown,” Lysander continued, “but we will be at the heart of the investigation. Upon reaching the dreadnaught Sagittarius, everyone will be subjected to questioning. Please, comply with their demands until we've returned to Midway Station and rendezvoused with Commodore Voight.”

  None of them knew the truth. Everyone on the Star Marque believed Capital Station had fallen out of orbit due to a malfunction. As far as the crew was concerned, Endellion had chosen to “get help” while Sawyer and I saved them from imminent destruction. That had to be the story. If I'd told them what Endellion had done, it would have been the same as condemning them all to imprisonment. The entire Star Marque crew could have been held accountable for the number of atrocities she had committed, even if they were technically unaware of them.

  It would've been the same for me and Sawyer.

  And Endellion would find a way to squirm out of it, no matter whom I reported her to. She always found a loophole, some contact, some “scum” to help her out of the situation. I was sure she had already covered her ass for her crimes against humanity. Endellion knew the rules of the system so well, they acted as both her sword and her shield.

  If I wanted Endellion to face justice, I would have to do it myself.

  “What are you going to do?” Sawyer asked, her eyes glued to the screen as she turned the volume off.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we get to Midway Station. What will you do, then?”

  “It depends,” I said, “on what we find there.”

  “We're two months behind Endellion. She'll have done something to protect herself.”

  Of course. I knew that. Attacking her straightaway might not have been an option. But maybe she was desperate. Maybe something had happened.

  “I need more information,” I said. “Then I'll decide.”

  “All right. And what about the others? When are you going to tell them the truth?”

  “You and I will tell them when we get close. After we've found Endellion's location.”

  “If that's what you think is best.”

  * * *

  I sat in my vice-captain's quarters. The room didn't hold any fondness for me. I primarily slept in my capsule or Endellion's quarters. I kept the lighting dim
to help me sleep, but I hadn't managed to get more than two hours of rest since returning from Capital Station.

  My PAD lit up, filling the space with a bluish hue. I tapped at the screen and removed the notifications. More messages from the crew. They sent thanks and declarations of loyalty at any opportunity they could get. Most talked to me about friends and family—the people they couldn't wait to see again—and reminded me that I was the reason they would be reunited with them.

  Half the crew had barely known of Sawyer's existence until Lysander's announcement. Now she got visitors and messages just as frequently as I did. Despite her antisocial and sarcastic nature, I had yet to meet someone who didn't think the world of her. Blub had become a celebrity. Everyone wanted a picture with the floating fish.

  I wished those realities would have eased my anxiety and dread, but nothing did.

  A beep at my door told me someone had come to visit. I got off my bed and tapped the computer terminal on the wall to answer. To my surprise, Lysander and Noah stood in the corridor.

  Noah stepped forward and smiled. “Demarco. Hey. Are you okay?”

  I exhaled. “Yeah.”

  “You haven't answered any of my messages.”

  I hadn't answered anyone's messages. What was I supposed to say? I was partially to blame for their near-death experience?

  “You haven't been drinking with us,” Noah continued. “And Lee says you don't talk to him anymore. You've been holed away.”

  “Endellion isn't here. I have to pick up her slack.”

  That was a lie. The reason the Star Marque didn't have all its officers was because the crew was small enough to get away with it. Sawyer handled maintenance, Lysander took care of the ground enforcers, Quinn handled the pilots, and Dr. Clay handled the infirmary. I could have stayed in my room for the next 60 days, and no one would have known the difference.

  “You should be excited,” Noah said as he tapped my arm. “You saved the day. Endellion's about to become a planet governor. We've won. You shouldn't even worry about the Star Marque right now.”

  I nodded, but said nothing. I wondered if Endellion would even bother keeping her promise.