by Max Jager
"Anything else you can tell me about Aquarius?" Jameson asked absently.
"I think if we're discrete enough we shouldn't cause too much of a stir," said Mathison. "I'll find us a permit to dock at a supply ring. This time of the year we should only have a handful of tourists as it is. It's not going to be bustling with crowds."
Jameson mulled that over. He would have preferred crowds; those were usually more colorful and easy to blend in with.
"What about the natives? Can we blend in with the local population?"
Mathison actually laughed. "I very much doubt it. Those original colonists I told you about? They couldn't do much with a planet covered entirely with ocean. So they experimented with radiation from the nearby Cone Nebula and made some wild transhuman adaptations."
Jameson shrugged. Transhumanism wasn't a strange concept. He had studied up on it with his induction as a cybernetic technician. His own implants classified him as transhuman; the next step in evolution, as some people would call it.
"They call themselves the Nereis now," Mathison continued, "but most tourists call them mermaids. They developed a capacity to breathe underwater and grow tailfins. There's a huge culture built around it."
"Mermaids, huh?" Jameson wondered aloud. "I guess we can rule out blending in with them. If we even bump into any."
"Doubtful. Nereis keep themselves pretty distant from the tourists. Unless this turns into a political event, we won't have any dealings with them. And I doubt Jaxx would organize a meeting underwater."
"No," Jameson said, standing up from his chair. "Not when there's plenty of quiet places to talk above water."
He began marching back to his cabin. With as far out as Aquarius was, they had a long journey ahead of them. At least two weeks.
After all this time, finally returning to Gibraltar space, it was tempting to make a stop at a Fleet depot and drop off the traitors still frozen away in cryo. But Jameson didn't want to waste any time. They were cutting it close as it was, and just like the strange tug he felt pulling him to Aspansiz, something was pulling him to Aquarius. He couldn't ignore, especially when he was pretty certain he knew what it was.
He was finally catching up to Axus after the last four years.
Enemy
Chapter 10
Enemy
* * *
Gibraltar space
Columbia Star System, Planet Warwick
Orbital Peacemaker Fleet Station
* * *
Four and a Half Years Ago
The room went deathly silent as the procession brought in the casket.
Jameson felt ready to throw up. Sitting next to him, Jester looked just as sick, his eyes focused on the deck plating beneath their feet. The six soldiers assigned to carry the casket delivered it at the front of the room, where a Fleet chaplain rose to deliver the eulogy.
"Though we commit to sacrifice for the cause of our freedom and nation, we give the highest honor to those who sacrifice all for that cause. In peace or in war, the life given of a soldier is always an act of supreme nobility and devotion."
Jameson began to tune out the words. Yes, how honorable and noble it was to die in the line of duty. But these words did no justice to the man lying in that coffin.
Chris was dead.
This was wrong. Chris was the strong one; the one that could always push on and make it out of tough situations. He had scored the highest in their Flotilla on physical testing. If anyone was prepared for this, it should have been him.
The memories of the training session inevitably gushed back into Jameson's mind like an open floodgate.
It was supposed to be a simple test of the starship Victorious in a battle situation. A simple test. They would fire up main systems, run the hardware through a simulation, and watch the results. No one was supposed to die.
Chris was where he was supposed to be; down in weaponry, responding to a crucial element of the Kraven Approach: damage to the flagship. Jameson still remembered the horror as he watched the whole deck depressurize. A system somewhere had experienced critical failure. Even before his brain or the computer recognized what had happened, Chris had suffocated and flash froze in the vacuum of space. Death had come so quick.
Jameson gritted his teeth, feeling his face flush red. Of course there would be mistakes; errors in the system. The Victorious was still under construction. They should have known! They should have run system wide tests before anyone was aboard! Jameson could have at least enforced the use of environment suits. Then Chris would have chuckled over his radio, calling in for a shuttle to come pick him up as he bobbed along harmlessly outside the ship.
Of course, they could have done a million things differently. There was no end, and each scenario taunted its way into Jameson's mind, reminding him repeatedly that it was his fault Chris was dead.
Jameson stood numbly with the rest of the small assembly gathered in the room for Chris's funeral. Most of them were Jameson's friends from the Eighth Flotilla, but a few from Chris's subdivision had shown as well. The proceedings were broadcast live via the galactic net for his family back home to watch.
There was one other individual there that Jameson recognized with a bitter realization. Up two rows and to the left, Axus looked almost bored to be there, Sada by his side and one arm looped around his. For a moment, Jameson was lost in the sight of the two, Axus obviously parading around yet another trophy he had stolen away from Jameson. Sure, it was a pain the first few times he had poached his girlfriend, but now it seemed that any time Jameson looked at a female officer, Axus was already there poisoning her against him. This was supposed to be their third week as a couple…
Jameson shook his head, watching as the soldiers from before moved Chris's casket to the airlock. They stepped back, vacuum forces pulling it the rest of the way in before sealing shut. A moment later, the exterior hatch opened, and Chris's remains drifted peacefully past the view screen and out into the black void. On its current trajectory, he would float out-bound from the system, on an eternal voyage back towards his home world, Southhaven.
A brief melody from the Gibraltar anthem played, signaling the end of the funeral.
Jameson glanced over at Jester, who still looked sick to his stomach.
"Well…that wasn't as hard as I thought it would be," said Jester. "It was worse."
Jameson nodded painfully. "Let's get out of here. I want to get a team looking over Victorious' data logs immediately. Maybe we can pin down…"
Jameson felt his words trail off as his eyes fixated on Axus. Through the retreating group of officers, he watched as Axus unhooked his arm from Sada's, reaching to undo his left shoulder's uniform piece. As the exposed skin came into view, he pressed down on the flesh, revealing the ridiculous list he had shown to Jameson several months back. He traced one finger up to Chris's name and then scratched it across violently. A strike out line eliminated Chris from the group.
Like Axus had checked him off.
Rage exploded inside. Jameson shoved aside two officers, storming over to where Axus was now pulling back on his sleeve.
"DAMN IT, AXEL!"
The light chatter that had started abuzz with the retreating group immediately went silent. Jameson didn't care. He was about ready to smash in Axus's nose. For his part, Axus looked amused.
"Show a little more respect for the dead!"
Axus folded his arms, grinning wickedly. "I have more respect for him right now than you could imagine. He's out of the Eighth Flotilla. Dead or alive, that's a mighty big step in the right direction."
Axus was goading him; Jameson knew it. But that didn't stop him from balling up his fists, deciding where he would pound him first.
Then Rappel was suddenly standing between them, pushing Jameson back. It offset his fury, leaving him more disoriented and upset.
"If you two want to make a scene," said Rappel, "at least do it in the fight ring where it belongs."
Axus laughed out loud. "Sounds good to me." H
e brushed Rappel aside, staring Jameson down tauntingly. "C'mon Jameson. Let's settle this where you can vent some of your anger."
Jameson didn't remember much of the walk out of the room or down the corridor to one of the rec centers where a ring waited. He did remember throwing off his uniform, casting the pieces aside in zero-g so that he was down to his kadvair, able to move more quickly on his feet.
Axus was suddenly in front of him, taking up a traditional Likuji stance. He snorted once, a sort of mocking chuckle towards Jameson and said, "This oughta be quick."
Jameson took a deep breath, trying to stow his anger. Gradually he remembered his training, taking up a similar stance. Then Axus lashed out.
Jameson side stepped and ducked several times, surprised by Axus's sudden violence. He tried making several lashes himself, but suddenly his fury from earlier wasn't helping. He needed focus, which Axus seemed to have a reserve of.
"You know what gets me," Jameson voiced aloud. "How you turn on us at every opportunity you get." He wasn't sure why he wanted to say it. Maybe to throw Axus off balance. Maybe just to vent. "I think you've forgotten that the real enemy is Draconia."
It didn't particularly work, and it left Jameson more winded than satisfied.
Axus paused, giving Jameson a moment to catch his breath. His expression had become suddenly very serious.
"Whoever wants to fight Draconian needs to fight all others to get to the top," said Axus. "Did you forget that, Jameson? I don't think you know who your real enemy is…"
He struck out quickly, a move Jameson had anticipated, but was too slow dodging it properly. He felt the pain spread through his nerves and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Winded both from the fight, from the fury, and from the sickness at Chris's funeral, Jameson cried out in agony.
Before sweet unconsciousness took him out of his misery, Jameson had one fleeting thought.
What if Axus was responsible for Chris's death?
Vindication
Chapter 11
Vindication
* * *
Gibraltar space
En Route to Aquarius Star System
* * *
Present Day
Jameson sat up with a start, panting as the cool air from his cabin sent chills down his skin.
The dreams were getting worse. He hadn't had them this bad in nearly three years. But with everything that had happened recently it was hard for his subconscious not to revisit them so viscerally.
Lumbering out of bed, Jameson felt new warmth surge through his kadvair. The rubbery material adhered to his body, absorbing the cold moisture gathered around him from sleep. He already felt more comfortable.
"Hey Jameson," Mathison's disembodied voice chimed in, "you all right?"
"Just nightmares."
He kicked off his bed, floating through the zero-g space of his cabin towards the ceiling. His kadvair surged with light, calling forth the armor components in midair to assemble around his body. It was still early, but he certainly wasn't getting any more sleep at this point.
As the clingers caught his feet, turning the ceiling into the floor, he glanced over where Grade was still snoozing in his kennel. Jameson thought he saw his German shepherd ears twitch with curiosity, but they always seemed to stand up; always on guard.
"Mathison," Jameson began, glancing at the screen clock on the wall, "how far out are we from the Aquarius system?"
A hologram sprung to life behind Jameson, casting warm orange and yellow radiance across the dim cabin. He turned slowly, watching as his ship's avatar glowed to life outside a virtual re-creation of the Aquarius solar system.
"We're less than two hours out from our scheduled docking permit at Christmas Tree Station. I was debating whether or not to wake you yet."
Jameson stared at the hologram, deliberating silently. Then he said, "Prepare an Intel briefing on the bridge. I'll make the most of our next couple of hours."
Pushing off the ground again, Jameson navigated through zero-g towards the doorway on true ground. The pull of artificial gravity from the clingers tugged on his body again as he made contact, brief dizziness giving way to realignment.
"There's a lot to go over," Mathison began tentatively, "but you should know something before you start reading: I think this is it."
Jameson felt a spike of adrenaline, his heartbeat kicking into high gear.
"Are you sure?"
"If my programming allowed me a belief, I would believe in this."
Jameson tried to keep his pace even as he rushed to the Crimson's bridge. But as he read the long briefing from his command terminal, anticipation continued to well up inside painfully. Mathison had to be right.
This was where he would find Axus.
Jameson reclined in his chair, folding his arms. "How long now until we reach Aquarius?"
"Less than half an hour," Mathison replied. "You could try getting some more sleep…"
He had spent too much time reading the damned report. Jameson leapt to his feet, floating briefly in the air from the force of jumping up. When his feet made contact with the surface again, he quickly strode back out into the central corridor.
"Now's not the time for sleeping."
He made his way to the ship's gym and went through a brief exercise routine. It was shorter and less rigorous than he liked, but time was of the essence. And more than anything, he needed to loosen himself up for the day's events.
A lifetime of training would suffice for missing one day's workout routine.
Jameson was on his cool down when Mathison chimed in. "We're entering Aquarius space, two hundred thousand kilometers off from the planet."
On cue, a shudder ran through the ship, signaling their departure from Faster-Than-Light travel. Jameson rose to his feet wearily, heading for the armory.
"Put us into a long orbit and prepare the skiff."
Mathison would know what to do from this point. Truth be told, Jameson had already made up his mind that Aquarius is where they were going. Where Axus was waiting. The confirmation from the Intel was just a formality to verify what Jameson had long since felt in his gut. This was it; this was where it was finally going to end. And he and Mathison had planned long and well for this encounter.
A few minutes later, Jameson was strapped down in the tight cockpit of the skiff, Mathison and the Crimson fast fading behind him. Jameson always felt uncomfortable in the skiff: the tight spaces, the associated memory of g-forces as he rose in and out of the planets where he worked. But right now, none of that matter.
Aquarius gradually grew to fill his view screen. It was a bright, aqua-colored marble of a world. It seemed made of crystal the way its parent star lit it up in the black void. Soon it was all he could see, and a new feature stood out against its endless ocean surface: Christmas Tree Resort Station.
It was impressive, as far as distant Gibraltar resort stations went: a large, cylindrical obelisk with various rings and internal ecology biomes. It also helped that it was located next to one of the most exclusive destination resorts in the Orion Arm. But it looked miniscule compared to the Space Habitat Jameson had grown up on as a child, before the Academy. Having grown up deep in Gibraltar national space, where Space Habitats could easily hold upwards of five hundred thousand people, Christmas Tree Resort was barely a settlement. It was impressive, with its wide arc wings and long swaths of glass observation decks. But his research indicated that the station held at most two thousand people. At this time of the year, they were at about two-thirds capacity.
Hopefully enough people for Jameson to blend in.
The skiff found the appropriate dock ring that he and Mathison had booked back when Aquarius first entered their plans. It was easy enough to secure, and it was lower down near the service decks. Jameson's arrival would go unnoticed.
"Jameson," Mathison chimed in through his earpiece, "we need to talk about something."
Jameson grunted, making his way through the airlock and into the station. "Ca
n this wait?"
"No," the AI pressed."We still haven't talked about contingencies."
"You know as well as I do that he's here. Or that he's going to be."
"That's not what I meant and you know it. What am I supposed to do if I get a signal that you failed?"
