by Greg Dragon
Every step of his was confidence, so much so that Helga couldn’t look away. Their eyes met for just a moment, and what she saw there left her embarrassed from practically beaming with pride. “Who here hails from Rendron?” he asked, stopping in front of them to await their response. Several hands went up, while the others looked concerned for his intentions with that question. Helga tried hard not to let this bother her, as this was the typical response from a crew to its new captain.
“That’s what I thought,” Cilas said, pacing. “Many of you hail from other starships, stations, and even planets. Welcome, Nolan,” he said to one of the Marines, and the big man nodded, barely able to restrain a smile. “Some of us hail from dreadful places, others wonderful, and you probably miss it. The act of service is at its base, sacrifice. The sacrifice of our time, our comforts, and even our lives,” he said, stopping for impact, though Helga had picked up on the pain behind his words. “But without service, we Vestalians would be an extinct race, victims of the Geralos, whose destruction would have moved on to another planet, possibly Hiyt, whose brilliance we see glowing through that window.”
He stopped to look out through one of the dock’s bay windows where Meluvia was visible, though only as a ball of light no bigger than a ball made for catching. “When we all signed on, we took an oath. Serve the Alliance, and rid the galaxy of the Geralos. A tremendous goal, it’s in an enormous galaxy,” he shouted, evoking laughter from his audience. “Which makes it easy to forget, it’s so enormous, but I’m telling you right now that here, you will not be afforded the luxury of forgetting. We are at war, Ursula, with an enemy that sees us as food; no, less than food, since they don’t even bother to consume us. They want our brains to bite, in hopes of pulling out some mystical power that they believe exists.”
And you don’t? Helga wondered, stunned that Cilas, her Cilas, not believing in the Vestalian Seeker gene, which she, the woman with whom he had shared so much had flowing inside her veins. All this time and you don’t believe, Helga thought, wondering if this was a sign that it was time for her to tell him.
“As you all know,” Cilas continued, “This is a unique vessel, first of its kind, a warship with specific outfitting and ordnance for stealth and neutralizing. Ursula is a Nighthawk, so in a way, so are the lot of you, and as your captain, I will demand the same commitment to the fight that I demand from my team. Here, there is no option but to go max thrust with everything you do for this team, and as your captain, I vow to be fair. The Alliance comes first but the next in that order is this crew.”
He kept on speaking, running through quick introductions that Helga could barely keep up with. Ursula before refit had been crewed and run by the Nighthawks, all serving double-duty, fitting in where they could to keep the vessel floating. Now there were thirty-five crewmembers, some who she hadn’t seen until now, now that they were forced back together.
Helga mentally checked out, finding it hard to focus. Her mind kept going back to Cilas, and how stunned she was at the revelation that he didn’t believe in the Seekers. For someone to question so big a legacy of their heritage as Vestalians meant that he saw the Geralos as fanatics, committing genocide in search of something that didn’t exist.
She wanted to approach him and ask him if the Seekers weren’t real, how was it that she could do the things she could inside a cockpit? If he argued that, she could bring up her isolation during their capture, when the Geralos segregated her in order to chemically split her Casanian blood from the Vestalian, which they needed. It was all so disappointing to her, she couldn’t contain it, so when the introductions were done and everyone made to disperse she approached him directly.
“Great speech, Commander,” she said, and meant it. “That bit about the Seekers though, you had me at a loss. Am I to believe that you, Commander Cilas Mec, do not believe that our Vestalian women can be born with the Seeker gene?”
She expected him to go on the defensive, but he merely shrugged. “Of course I believe in Seekers, Hel. Which part of my speech would have you thinking I’m doubting our powers?” he said, putting her on the defensive suddenly. “Wait, so you did think that. I knew there was something bothering you the way that you were glowering. Helga, come on, I know our history, and you should know that.”
“Hence my surprise, Ci—I mean, Commander, but for once, where you’re concerned, I’m actually relieved to be wrong.”
7
It had been raining for three days since Fio Doro opened the luggage and saw the details of those Alliance vessels. Following Djesu’s instructions, she had gathered her closest belongings into a pack and paid the apartment’s rent forward in case she would need to be gone for several months. Retreating back to her old room in Djesu’s house, she had stayed out of sight while he set up a meeting with the friend he had working in the recruitment station.
The plan was to meet him outside of the starport, since the Alliance recruitment office was in the same general area. He would meet them when he got off work, and assured them that the place would be empty since he was normally the last one leaving there. Djesu made them take a taxi out there, informing Fio that his friend, Garson, intended to give them a ride back home, while speaking to them about the documents.
Once they made the drop-off, Garson would contact the Alliance and the Genesian Guard, who had authority over the local police agency. They would arrest Vray and question him, and both Fio and Djesu would receive rewards from the Alliance. On their way over Djesu was like a child en route to getting a much-wanted toy. “We’re going to be heroes, Fio,” he said. “This could be our way out. That reward will be generous, and we may get titles.”
She had never seen him so happy, so she had allowed him to ramble on, uninterrupted. When they made it to the steps of the recruitment office, he had finally run out of suppositions, and was on to being annoying with his anticipation.
“Since you’re of a mood, Pops, mind if we have a talk?” Fio said, crossing her arms.
She kept her eyes on the dark glass of the offices, which reflected the courtyard of trees behind them, their branches casting long shadows from the plaza’s floodlights. She had her doubts about Garson being inside the building. They were locked and showed no signs of life, all of the workers from the day long gone. In the neighboring lot where the taxi had dropped them off, the transports had been sparse and with nothing resembling a government vehicle.
“Let me guess. Something I said to you ages ago has been digging at you something fierce, and now we’re alone you want me to explain myself?” Djesu posited, tilting his head back to catch some of the rain on his face.
“You called me a psychopath,” Fio nearly shouted.
“That is what you’re sour about?” Djesu seemed legitimately surprised. “I didn’t mean anything by it, but you do go to the extremes sometimes, Fio.”
“This is about Alana, isn’t it?” Fio looked at him with disbelief. “Pops, she was a thief. Siphoning credits when she thought we were sleeping. I caught her red-handed, but you wouldn’t believe, so I had to do what you wouldn’t. How does that make me a psychopath?”
“You were barely 13, it wasn’t your call, and I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”
“It was her that called BasPol on me when I stole that cab. Did you know that?” Fio pressed. “Do you know what they put me through in there? I could have died.”
“After the way you beat her, Fio, it was her way of getting back at you, and it was foolish. She didn’t mean for any of that to happen. We talked, and she was apologetic. That isn’t why I called you what I did; I didn’t mean anything by it. A joke was my intention, but you obviously want to get this off your chest.” Djesu turned and made to sit down on the wet stones, then thought better of it and leaned against a post instead. “I sure wish Garson would hurry up.”
“You let me down, Pops. You chose her over me,” Fio said. “It’s why I left. I didn’t think I could trust you, and what did sh
e do? Take everything from you, and now she’s on the north side, living like a thyping queen, and we’re in the rain.”
“I probably deserve that,” Djesu said. “If you haven’t loved, you wouldn’t understand what made me make those bad decisions.” He turned to face her and spread his arms. “Now that you’ve got it out of your system, and Alana has left me and gone, will you find room in your heart to forgive?”
“Whatever,” was all Fio could manage as she stared out into the dark. “Cruta ruined my life.”
“Did she though, daughter?” Djesu sighed, his face seeming pained. “You’ve had it rough since birth when your mother abandoned you to these foul Basce City streets. You came into my life, angry and resentful, but that was your survival. You had that spark, and I knew all you needed was support to grow into the light. It’s not easy to raise a child here, Fio, and I admit, I played the role with you at first because I saw an apprentice I could train to help me amass the credits needed to get out. Aye, but you were so much more, learning fast, and never a disappointment outside of your spats with the neighborhood tramps.
“You were more daughter to me than I could have hoped for, even if you were my own, but Alana filled a gap in my life that even you, as special as you were, could not close. When you left, I was angry with you, and looking back, I had no right, but things were moving so fast, I didn’t know. Yeah, Alana played me, I was a fool, and by the time I was wise, you were out there with an apartment of your own and running goods uptown. I tell you.” He laughed. “Fio Doro, I couldn’t have been prouder.”
Fio didn’t know what to say to that. She was happy to hear that he really hadn’t abandoned her, but still felt the sting of betrayal from those early days. “I’ve been in love, I get it,” she said, “though I wasn’t fool enough to allow that individual to blindly rob me. What would you say now, if I propose that once this meeting is settled, we take a transport uptown and take back what is ours? That should mend some wounds.”
“Would it though, Fio? It’s likely she has a family now, which involves small tykes, and a clueless husband,” Djesu countered, his voice revealing that the wound hadn’t been healed from his past relationship with Alana.
“Wasn’t being serious, Pops, I’m just helping the time pass. Is your friend really coming? The rain is picking up, and this—” Fio heard a noise from the direction of the trees, and she looked over at Djesu to see if he too had heard it. “Are you positive that we’re safe here, Pops? Vray knew enough of my background to know that you and I are linked.”
The noise came again after a second had passed and Fio knew it wasn’t her imagination. It was a slight sloshing sound, similar to the blowing rain, but distinct enough for her to know it wasn’t natural. An invisible hand gripped her heart, squeezing it, forcing her to catch her breath, and as she turned to her left to see what it was, a bullet tore through her neck, not hitting vitals but searing a bloody hot gash right below her chin.
In the distance standing amidst the trees she saw a trio of men dressed in black tactical gear. They appeared to be BasPol spice-breakers, but their helmets were different, and they were firing assault weapons unlike any she had ever seen. “Your man isn’t coming, but we arranged another meeting for you to deliver those stolen documents,” one of them shouted, his voice a deep rasp, frightening, revealing no mirth or sarcasm. It was as if he was stating facts.
Another hit her chest, striking the communications disc, and it exploded on impact, knocking her back against the stairs. Djesu was down, and she didn’t know how and when. Fio scrambled to get up, reached for the suitcase, but a high-pitched whine made her retreat from it and scramble up the stairs. The suitcase exploded into cinders, the traces of the laser still visible in the night air.
Fio was up and running now, certain that if she lived, she would quickly regret that she hadn’t been killed. Djesu was dead, and the pain was an expanding balloon stuck in the bottom of her throat. She didn’t know where she was going, what she would do, and how she would survive the night. Her only focus was to push past the pain, get out of the port, and find her way back to the stocks.
A whistling bullet zipped past her ear as she ran through the arc that separated the offices from the starport’s entrance. A long line of buses had pulled in, their passengers spilling out into the parking lot, and Fio darted into their midst, swimming against the current as they made their way towards the starport. Her appearance caused some confusion, particularly from people who saw the wound on her neck.
Fio slowed down, and as her adrenaline waned, she began to really feel the pain. The intense burning in her chest, the soreness of her eyes from crying in the freezing rain, and the numbing pain in her shoulder from the shot. Unsure, confused, and paranoid that at any moment now one of her pursuers would jump out and sink a knife into her, Fio hurried through the oncoming rushers until an unimpressed mother stood her ground and shoved her into the pavement.
Suddenly, a hand shot down, grabbing her wrist and pulled her back up to her feet, where it began dragging her the other way. Fio made to yank back her hand and reach for her gun, but she recognized who it was from the galactic map tattooed on her wrist. Looking up in disbelief from that hand which she knew too well, Fio couldn’t believe her luck. “Zulia?” she asked, unsure if her condition was having her imagine things.
“Fio, you’re bleeding,” the woman whispered accusingly, not breaking her stride as she dragged her along to the crowded starport’s entrance.
“Don’t worry about me,” Fio managed, but then an alarm from the intercom drowned out all sound to alert them of an incoming announcement.
“Attention, travelers, welcome to Basce City Adventures,” came a woman’s voice, loud enough to grab the attention of the buzzing crowd. “Please have your tickets out and be ready to present them to our Cel-toc agents at the entry port. Additionally, I must inform you that we’ve been temporarily listed as code red. Gunfire has been recorded close by and the Basce City Police are on their way.”
Zulia stopped and looked over Fio, her violet eyes reflecting a look of disappointment. “Those gunshots, were they for you?”
“Yes, and I need to go before they find me. I owe you big time, Zulia, and I will make it up to you. Whatever you want, just buzz me later and—”
The tall, slender woman took her hand and placed a ticket inside her palm. “You need to disappear for a while, right?” she said, and when Fio nodded she pulled her along to one of the entry ports. “Perfect, then you’re coming with me to Neroka Station. There’s an extra bunk since Cheyenne’s on leave having her baby, and you could have time to heal and reset. What do you say, Fio? It’s a chance you may never get again. Take me up on it this time? Please?”
Fio was beginning to feel weak, and as dreadful as serving drinks sounded, it meant safety and some time to process everything that happened. “Sure, Zu … but I don’t want you to think—”
“What? That because we share a room, that things will revert to what it was last year? Don’t flatter yourself girl, and right now, the only thing you should be worrying about is getting some medical help. Come with me.” She dragged her into a restroom, where she opened her bag and pulled out a medkit. She cleaned the wound on Fio’s neck and placed a bandage on it, then rubbed her chest with a numbing cream to lessen the pain.
Fio Doro wanted to thank her but couldn’t bring herself to act. On the outside she looked tired, drawn, and on the verge of losing consciousness. Inside she was falling, rapidly, past herself into a void where the guilt of Djesu’s passing threatened to bury her deep enough to where she too could be dead. If there were any more tears to cry out, they would have been streaming, but all she felt was pain.
Now that her wounds were treated, Zulia went into a booth and emerged wearing a uniform and a hat tilted on her short, curly hair. “Here, put these on,” she said, handing Fio a bundle. “They’re a little wet from outside, and the pants won’t fit, but with my top and coat on, no
body should recognize you as we make our way onto the ship.”
Fio nodded and began to undress, not missing the look of sheer horror that crossed Zulia’s face as she saw more and more of her bruised and battered body. She let out a nervous laugh, nearly delirious. “Had some adventures since our junior cadet days, girlfriend. You should see your face.” She started to laugh even though it aggravated her chest. She let herself have it, for if she didn’t laugh, she was likely to break down crying instead.
She pulled on the shirt, popped the collar, and pulled it in close to conceal the bandages. At first she declined the coat due to it putting weight on the shoulder, but Zulia insisted, so she wore it. In the mirror, outside of her blue mop and running mascara, she did look the part of the working-class hustler on her way up to do a shift on the station.
“Ever been off-planet?” Zulia asked, turning to dispose the bloody garments into the disposal.
“Never,” Fio admitted.
“Oh, this is exciting, I get to experience your first flight. I bet when we make it up to the station, you won’t want to leave there. It’s not as terrible as you think, Fio. There were plenty rumors misleading you. It’s a job I love, and if you’re willing to help, you can stay with me as long as you need until you find your footing. Just one stipulation before we go. I want the whole story of how you wound up shot, and bleeding out here of all places. Fair?”
“Fair,” Fio nearly shouted, ready to be seated on the space shuttle, restrained, and finally able to rest. Djesu was gone, and so were the credits, her apartment, and all of the things she’d been collecting since her childhood. I’ll be back for them, she promised herself, knowing deep down it was a dream that wouldn’t happen. “Leave before you find yourself loving the wickedness,” she recited.
“That one of Djesu’s old sayings?” Zulia asked.
