by Greg Dragon
She pulled off her helmet before he could reply and tucked it under her arm. Joy Valance caught up to her, and Helga braced herself for a tongue lashing. “Do I need to say it?” she said, falling in next to the Nighthawk.
“It will only be the one-millionth time you’ve scolded me, so, no?” Helga said. She flashed her friend a smile, but Joy grabbed her arm and slammed her up against the bulkhead.
“Endanger the lives of my squadron again and I will clip your wings, even if it means physically cutting off your arms, Helga Ate. You had your chance to join us, and you chose to be an ESO. So, when it comes to the business of fending off lizard fighters, I am flight commander, not you. Am I making myself clear?” she said.
Helga nodded quickly, seeing that Joy was really upset. Anyone else and she would have fought back against the attack, but it really did bother her to think that she had compromised the Revenants. That squadron had been through a lot, and had lost a lot of pilots to the Geralos. For her to add to their string of bad luck made her feel absolutely terrible.
“Joy, if you saw that ship come in the way it did, I doubt that you would have been able to fight the urge to act,” she said. “It’s what I am good at. You’ve said it yourself, and I just—”
“What? You just knew that we were so helpless that we needed a Nighthawk to show us how it’s done?” Joy laughed. “Do you know how many warships we faced before knowing you even existed?”
Helga looked at the woman’s helmet with the numerous stickers, each symbolizing a ship that she had defended against. “I’m aware, Joy. I didn’t think. It was Millicent who saved us when we left the dreadnought, and something in me snapped when I saw that they were keeping you from coming home. Joy, I would be the last person to question the effectiveness of your team.”
The older woman punched the bulkhead near Helga’s head, which had to hurt because unlike Helga, she wasn’t wearing an armored suit. “Whatever,” Joy said, wincing from the pain as she released Helga’s arm before stomping away in a huff. She was a powerfully built woman, who was as intimidating as she was beautiful, but Helga saw the disappointment on her face, and it made her feel low and foolish.
Now more than anything else she needed a reprieve, whether it was through a stiff drink inside her compartment or at one of the bars on this deck. She wanted to drink herself stupid and take it out on the first spacer that looked at her the wrong way, but it would have to wait until after she’d met with Captain Retzo Sho. With Cilas hurt, she couldn’t run off like she was used to, and command would want to hear her report.
Helga made a call to Genevieve Aria, the ship’s communications officer, who scheduled a time near the end of that cycle for her to meet Retzo Sho. She went back to her compartment and decided against the drink, since she would need to be fully coherent when she gave her brief. She sat at the table, stewing on Joy’s words, and whether or not their relationship was damaged.
Three times she had flown alongside the Revenants, and all three times she had been scolded for her reckless maneuvers. Her dream had always been to be where Joy stood now, as leader of an elite group of aces responsible for ship defense.
At one time Joy’s Revenants had belonged to Inginus, one of the Rendron’s infiltrators. The ship had been cut in two during a fight with the battleship, Nian, and was still in the process of being rebuilt. Joy had been looking forward to a return to the infiltrator, where she would be promoted to CAG, Commander of the Air Group.
It explained her ire, which Helga fought against taking personally, since the ambush had cost her more than a few friends, and the boost in her career.
“Thype,” Helga said when she thought of the deep resentment Joy would be feeling right now. They would all be grounded, drifting around in uncharted space, with little to do outside of training and the mundane duties of a spacer on a capital ship.
She wanted to check on Cilas to see if he was recovering well, but a call to medbay revealed that it was too late. Their lieutenant was already in treatment and would be placed inside a healing tank for several cycles. This meant that he would be unreachable, and she would have to continue playing the role of team leader.
Helga removed her armor piece by piece, placing them neatly on the table inside her compartment. She had time to burn before meeting the captain, and didn’t want to spend it moping or explaining her actions to Quentin Tutt. She busied herself with cleaning the armor, using an old t-shirt, which she dabbed in wax, borrowed from the hangar.
With practiced movements, she buffed the scratches from the plates and kept at each of them until they shone like black obsidian. After placing them on a mannequin in the corner near her bed, the sight of it lightened her mood and she was able to take a breath.
The armor’s shell glittered like a brand new Phantom, black and shiny, revealing no flaws. It brought a smile to Helga’s face. She still remembered being a cadet dreaming of donning a Powered Armor Suit. Now she not only owned one, but had used it in several missions, even mastering the tricky controls.
She should have been proud of her accomplishments, having this compartment, the mannequin, and the armor that it wore, but all she felt now was anxiety for having to meet with Retzo Sho. This would be the second time the young Nighthawk would have the privilege of speaking to the captain. The first time had been at her graduation from the cadet academy, which was a story that even she couldn’t believe.
It was one of her fondest memories, and how he remembered her when she’d met him again after returning from her first mission. This time, however, their meeting would be official, since Cilas was being treated and she was his second-in-command.
When the time came to meet, she showered and dressed in her officer’s uniform, spending an eternity in the mirror making sure that everything was crisp and perfect. She set out for his cabin, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. The passageways were extra crowded from restless rates scrambling in the aftermath of the fight. They seemed more agitated than usual, and several spacers were arguing openly in front of the others.
What in the worlds is going on? she thought as she hurried past them, noticing the looks she was getting from a number of the crew. Still, she walked the deck with purpose, her chin held high to show that she would not entertain any foolishness. She was the interim team leader of the Nighthawks Extraplanetary Spatial Operators, and while her nerves were on edge, she relished the feeling of being in charge.
Helga’s resolve crumbled at the big black doors of Captain Retzo Sho’s cabin, and she was a sixteen-year-old cadet again, gushing over the chance to meet their leader. She climbed the short steps and composed herself, pulling back her shoulders as she rapped lightly and waited.
The doors slid open, and two older officers regarded her with looks of surprise. One was Retzo Sho, casually sipping on a glass of brandy, and the other was his executive officer, Commander Jit Nam. “Ensign Ate. Welcome. And how may we help you?” Retzo said, glancing at the taller man, whose light blue eyes seemed to glow beneath his taut brown skin.
Jit Nam eyed her curiously, stroking his immaculately crisp goatee. Compared to the captain, who was approachable despite his lofty position, the XO was a cold reminder of the Alliance’s naval elite. He just exuded judgment, and Helga found herself uncomfortable beneath his gaze. “Captain, the ensign is here to deliver the Nighthawk’s debrief,” he said. “Lieutenant Mec is hurt. Remember?”
“Hurt? I was told that he bumped his head on the mission, but no one said he was hurt,” Retzo said.
“Captain Sho, the lieutenant has been fighting injuries for several missions now,” Helga said, “and our medic, Sergeant Quentin Tutt, recommended that he spend time in the tank. The bump he suffered on our entry was pretty bad, and this is a man who has been shot and crushed in both of our missions together, sir.”
Retzo slatted his eyes and put down his drink, then folded his arms and leaned back against the desk. “You’ve changed,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile.
; “Sir?”
“The last time you were in this cabin it was after the mission on Dyn. You had been through hell and it was evident. I could literally feel your pain and discomfort, standing in here with Cilas. You were a shining star and I worried that the lizards had burned the fight out of you, but what I see in you now is very different. You’re an inspiration to this ship, Helga Ate, and you continue to make us all proud.”
Thype, Helga thought as she felt her cheeks blush. Is this some sort of sick joke, him making me want to cry? She would not let him win, even if what he was saying was true. She took a breath and steadied herself, exhaling to regain control. “Thank you, sir,” she managed after clearing her throat loudly. “I have all the support that I could ever ask for, especially from my lieutenant.”
“Tell us about the dreadnought,” Retzo said, and Helga quickly recounted their tale. She told him about the inside of the dreadnought, and the Geralos that died after daring to bite a Casanian. She told them about their escape and Millicent saving them from the zip-ship before it fully depleted their shields.
Retzo Sho and Jit Nam listened to Helga’s report and then spoke quietly to one another before thanking her for her service. During her recounting of the mission she had noticed the casual looks they exchanged with one another as she spoke. She began to worry that perhaps they had done something wrong and she was about to feel the wrath of her captain.
“Cilas Mec speaks highly of you, Helga Ate,” Jit Nam said, stepping forward with his hands behind his back. “Says he named you his second-in-command because he has complete confidence in your ability to lead. He has vouched for you on several occasions, which leads us to believe that you’re loyal to the Alliance’s cause.”
Helga didn’t know what to say. Jit Nam was a strange man in both his speech and mannerisms, and she wasn’t sure what game he was playing saying these things to her. She knew that Cilas trusted her—he had said as much on their last mission—but she was only his second-in-command because she was the only survivor of his original team of eight.
“Personally, I think that you’re young and reckless,” he continued. “You omitted the part where you disobeyed a commanding officer to fly back into the fray. Do you have a death wish, Ensign Ate? Do you think your actions were that of a leader, leaving your team to do what you did?”
“N-no sir,” she managed, clearing her throat again. She wanted to explain her actions the same way she had to Joy but knew it would be received the same way.
Jit Nam was staring at her and she waited for him to say more, but then she realized that he wanted her to respond. “Some of us are drawn to the fire,” Retzo said to his executive officer, breaking the awkward silence and saving Helga from having to explain herself. “It was foolish, but it’s a lesson that I am sure Ensign Ate has learned. Isn’t that right, Helga?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, nearly shouting with relief. “I acted foolishly, Commander Nam, and will do better to represent my team and this ship. As to Lieutenant Mec, I am his second, and anything you would have asked of him now, I will do my best to fill in. Once he’s healed—which I hope is soon—I will have his guidance to carry out further orders.”
The two older men exchanged glances, and Jit Nam nodded resolutely then moved off to the side where he faced his captain. Retzo Sho took his place in front of her. “Ensign Ate, what I am about to say is classified, and what we discuss today is not to leave this cabin. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, standing taller at attention.
“Your last two missions dealt with traitors in and out of our Alliance. You have seen firsthand the death and destruction that comes with allies betraying our trust.”
“I have, sir,” Helga said, her words coming out as a croak.
“The rebel group known as The Collective is the puppet master that holds the strings above the Meluvian Liberation Front. We were under the impression that these were Meluvian rebels giving us trouble until you brought us back intelligence proving otherwise. The Collective has compromised several of our ships, and we suspect that they have operatives here on the Rendron.
“While we wait to return to Alliance space, I want you and the Nighthawks to be my eyes and ears amongst the rates. Just go about your shifts normally, training, and doing everything else that you do. If you see something, report it, but I want the agitators held for questioning.”
“You can count on us to get it done, Captain,” Helga said. She hated how he made it seem as if she had a choice. “Do we have clearance to use deadly force if necessary?”
Retzo Sho looked at his executive commander, and the tight-faced man turned to face her. “While it would be easy for someone like you to hunt down the rebel instigators, Ensign,” he said, “it would prove disastrous if it gets out that we sicced our ESO operators on the rest of the ship. You are clear to defend yourselves, but work with the master-at-arms if things escalate. We have only remained afloat because our ship is disciplined. It is, after all, the Rendron way.”
All you had to say was no, Helga thought, wondering at this Jit Nam, and why he seemed so hostile with her. “We will do this for you, Captain Sho,” she said confidently. “Anything out of place, me and the men will report.”
“Thank you, Ensign Ate. I do hope that we’re wrong, and you won’t find anything worth reporting,” Retzo said.
Helga saluted them both then waited for a dismissal, and when Jit Nam nodded, she turned and marched out as quickly as she could muster.
To think that earlier she had relished meeting with the captain, but the commander and his pair of icy blue eyes had made it both frightening and awkward. Pushing her feelings to the side, she got on her comms and called up the team. “Tutt, Lei, are you there?” she said. “We have a new directive, starting immediately.”
4
Before a cadet earned access to a fighter, it was possible to experience space through star-walking or shield surfing. Star-walking or “walking on the exterior hull,” required an EVA suit and magnetic boots. Cadets had to have an escort and a working tracker in case of emergencies, so it wasn’t something they could do on their own. It was coordinated, rigid in its limitations, and there was a waiting list.
Shield surfing, however, was unsanctioned and illegal. It took stealing a thruster from the ship’s stores and rigging it to a controller, hacked to operate independently of a ship. The docks of most starships had them stacked at the ready, so cadets would sneak in and borrow them on occasion. Once they had a thruster and controller, they would need to find an airlock. Most chose the galley, where the hatch would frequently open to expel the Rendron’s trash.
Dressed in an EVA suit, the adventurous cadet would use the thruster to launch out from the hull. As long as they stayed within the shields it was possible to fly around freely, getting a taste of space. Surfing the shields was not just illegal, however; it was dangerously reckless. The cadet was at the mercy of the hatch’s timer, and any miscalculation or malfunction could lead to death.
Helga had been one of the cadets foolish enough to surf the shields regularly, and though she’d never been caught, she still had dreams of riding free in space. Thinking back on the hundreds of times she and other deviants had snuck out to do this, she wondered how it was that she had managed to live to see her graduation. Cadets caught surfing were expelled without a trial, and though she’d known this as a teen, the draw of space had been too strong.
Beyond expulsion there was the danger of the stunt itself, which had taken the lives of many of her friends who weren’t as meticulous as she was. The Rendron’s shields were invisible from the inside, and would readily eject them from the ship. A cadet on a thruster was too small a blip on the radar for the computers to accept that they weren’t debris. Not to mention they used the airlocks meant for refuse and waste, so if you got thrown by the shields, there would be no rescue on the way.
Helga was asleep inside her compartment, dreaming of surfing near the Rendron’s hull. It was an exercise in
discipline, since she had no gauge to tell her when fuel was spent. All she had was an old watch, which she would fasten to her EVA suit.
In this dream she explored the length of the starship, avoiding portholes and windows so that she could stay hidden. She looked out at the expanse of the planet known as Traxis, and was in awe of what she was seeing. Of course she knew that this was a dream, since all she knew of Traxis was from holos and vids.
She heard the watch beep and touched it to turn the alarm off, then worked her way back to the location of the hatch. But then her thruster faltered and started to sputter. Had she miscalculated how much fuel was in the reservoir? This wasn’t likely considering how careful she was.
The thruster took on a life of its own, working to slip from beneath her grasp, and her focus shifted from making the airlock to getting control of her ride. On and on she spiraled near the hull, trying to avoid the shields as the failing canister bucked as if it were a mechanical bull. Eventually it died, and she began to float away from the Rendron. It was a dream but it was one of her worst fears, so she fought to regain control as if it was really happening.
She decided to give up on the thruster and let it slip from her grasp. Kicking it hard, she used the momentum to throw herself at the hull. The maneuver worked, causing her to float back towards the Rendron. As she neared the ship, she reached out to find a convenient handhold. Grabbing it and holding on for dear life, Helga watched the thruster as it reached the shields and was thrown out into oblivion.
All the while Traxis loomed beautifully, like a glowing green poster stamped on a wall of black. But there was no time to admire it now. Her life was on the line, and she scanned the length of the Rendron, seeing if there was another way inside.
Hand over hand, she maneuvered across the exterior hull. Then she heard an alarm warning her that oxygen was low. Did I not check my EVA? she wondered. Just how long have I been out here? Dreams made it impossible to keep any sort of time, and now she had minutes to find an accessible hatch.
