by Joshua James
Saito took a deep breath, then peeked around the corner, warm blood streaming down his face from the gash on his forehead. All he saw was an empty space station corridor with apartment doors on both sides. More smoke bellowed out of the vents along the ceiling. Considering the amount, he determined the fire must’ve intensified.
Saito raised one arm, bent at the elbow at a ninety-degree angle. He made a fist, then changed it to an open hand, beckoning his crew to follow.
Pistol up at the ready, Saito quickly made his way around the corner and down the hall. He checked door numbers as he went. All the while, he kept checking behind them. Chances were very slim that the enemy wasn’t following.
Saito saw the holographic projection of a padlock through his HUD. He beckoned Ada forward. Silently, she waved her hand in front of it, opening apartment 254. Relief washed over him, as the engineer had indeed unlocked and transferred access to his living quarters to Ada.
When Saito heard the high-pitched screeches echoing through the hall behind him, he knew they were running out of time. He needed to get the survivors inside as quickly as possible.
Saito covered the door as he waved everyone into the engineer’s apartment. Despite knowing that the super-heated rounds in his pistol would do little to nothing to stop the enemy, he kept his firearm trained in the direction of the screeches.
Saito squinted to try and focus his eyes as he saw a dark shape through the smoke at the end of the hall. It looked vaguely human, or something pretending to be human that hadn’t quite learned how to walk. Using the walls to brace itself, the shape made its way towards him.
“Sir?” Saito felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced around to see Commander Rollins.
“Is this everyone?” asked Saito.
“I think so,” answered Rollins. His pistol shook in his normally steady remaining hand.
Saito looked at his remaining crew. By his count there were only seventeen left. That was seventeen of the crew of over 2,000 the UEF Atlas had departed Annapolis with.
None of the survivors were untouched by the assault on Sanc-33. As a neutral space station in uncharted space, it was supposed to be as its name implied. But it turned out those rules only applied to humans.
Gunshot wounds needed to be mended, cuts and lacerations stitched, and burns treated. Unfortunately none of the medics had survived to that point, so in addition to being terrified and on the run, Saito’s surviving crew was suffering and, in some cases, dying.
The engineer’s apartment was modest. There was a couch for those most grievously injured. Others sat on the floor. Two Marines took a quick weapons inventory.
“Where’s Washburn?” asked Rollins.
“He’s worried about his own. He won’t be coming,” answered Saito.
“Dumb bastard is gonna go down with his station,” said Baez as he paced back and forth in the small apartment.
“Calm down,” ordered Saito.
“Calm down? Calm down!?” Baez got into Saito’s face. They were so close their noses almost touched.
“Stand down, Private!” ordered Rollins.
“Nah, I don’t think so.” Baez briefly looked over at Rollins. Then he turned his attention back to Saito. “Look around you, ‘Captain’. This is chaos, and in chaos, ranks don’t mean shit no more. Your stars and bars ain’t gonna save you, and they ain’t gonna save us.”
“Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to help either,” pointed out Ada. She tried her best to tend to a comrade who’d been nearly choked to death by the enemy.
“For all I know, some of you are one of them. Hell, for all you know, I am.” Baez pointed at Ada and then back at himself, burying his finger in his own chest. “So what’re we really doing here? Huh? Other than packing ourselves in tight so they can wipe us all out at once, or take us out from the inside. Huh?”
Saito calmly watched Baez break down. He didn’t judge him, not after everything he’d been through.
“I’m not waiting here to die!” Baez tried his hardest to fight back tears. “Good luck, all of you.” Before leaving, Baez turned back to Saito. “All of this is on you. On you!”
“Good luck, Private. I sincerely mean it.”
“Yeah, whatever, old man.” Baez checked his rifle and left. He walked out of the apartment into the smoke- and fire-filled hallways of the space station.
Saito felt something in the moment the hatch was open. There was a strange light streaming in from the hallway. The sound of the creatures was muted. He heard another voice that he couldn’t quite place.
“What do you want to do, Captain?” asked Rollins.
Saito slowly crossed the apartment towards the only window. Made of thick multilayered plastic, it kept the pressures and vacuum of space separate from the denizens of the station.
Saito placed his hand on the window, blood streaked in his fingers’ wake. Outside was the enemy: an enemy with no shape of its own, no identity. Their ships took the form of UEF fighters. They circled around a massive ball of living, shining metal.
Like a gaseous planet, the surface of the massive metal ball kept moving. Parts of it would spike out and twist, churn. Part of Saito found it hypnotic, almost beautiful. It was something shiny and precious against the cold dark abyss of open, uncharted space.
There was a loud bang at the apartment door. It made everyone jump except Saito. Another one followed, only louder than the first. He sighed and dropped his pistol on the carpeted floor. He felt the cut on his forehead throbbing. There were voices in his head now.
Saito didn’t hear loud bangs on the door. He heard a light knocking and his dead wife’s voice. She called to him.
“What’re you…?” asked Rollins.
“This is it.” Saito slowly made his way to the door, despite everyone begging him not to. He put his hand over the button to open it.
Ada gave Saito a look similar to an emotionally wounded and confused child. “Captain?”
“Rollins—Jake—do what I couldn’t. Keep them safe.” Saito’s hand got closer to the door button. Before he pressed it, he asked: “One more favor?”
Rollins fought through his grief and shock. “Anything, sir.”
“If you…when you make it out of here, get word to my son. To Ben. Tell him I’m sorry. I never should’ve left.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself, sir? You don’t have to do this,” pleaded Ada. Then she frowned. He felt her eyes slide up to his forehead.
Saito could barely stand the throbbing that was coming from the cut now. The blood from it was seeping into his eyes, but he couldn’t make himself blink.
He opened the door. “Thank you for being the most valiant crew I’ve ever had the honor of commanding. And please forgive me for failing you.” It was like he was hearing someone else speaking. Someone reading a script.
With that, he stepped out into the hallway.
Much to his surprise, he wasn’t greeted by the monstrous shapeless creatures that had annihilated his people. Instead, he was met with a lone woman at the opposite end of the hall. She didn’t need to get closer for him to recognize her.
“Beverly?” Saito slowly walked towards his wife. She was draped in shadow. His mind told him it wasn’t her. It screamed at him that it couldn’t be her. But the other voices in his head, the ones that said it was her, were so loud.
Beverly held her arms out. “It’s okay, Lee. It’s all over.”
He embraced her. “I’m sorry, Bev. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
“Shhhh. Hush now, Lee. None of that matters. Not anymore, now that you’re with me. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Beverly sounded like herself, but something was missing. Her voice was the same, but still sounded distant.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Saito said.
“No, silly. The Abyss. Can you see it yet?” she asked.
Saito felt only coldness. His vision narrowed to dark points.
“Can you see the simple beauty? We
’re all equal here. We’re all the same in the dark. Can you see it yet? Isn’t it beautiful?”
Saito saw nothing. Nothing at all.
Epilogue
Ben wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. It was hot in the gunship. The fact that they were gliding past the Earth orbital blockade as wanted fugitives might have also had something to do with it.
“You still think your friend can get us past the blockade?” Ben asked. “They’ll be looking for us.”
Morgan looked calm. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“Just relax,” Ace said, looking even more nervous than Ben.
Leaving Earth was almost impossible without approval. And in their case, without being spotted. The shootout alone would make them wanted fugitives. But if what Morgan and Ace were saying was true, about the way the UEF had burned them after they’d discovered what was happening with the Oblivion, they might be the most wanted people on the planet.
Or off it.
“Cleared the inner loop,” Morgan said. She pushed the throttles forward, and the Lost responded by leaping forward. The little gunship was a struggle in atmosphere, but it was in its element here in space. “Two minutes and we’ll be far enough to fold jump,” she said.
Ben sat back, curious now. “That’s some contacts you have.”
“Yeah,” she said without looking away from the instruments. She wasn’t using the automatic beacons, but flying by manual control. Ben assumed that was because she was taking a different course than the computer would lay in, something that would let her “contacts” guide her clear of the outer loop. Not that they really needed it now. “A little too good, eh?”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Ace said.
But now Ben was leaning forward. Alarm bells were going off in his head. “They warned you about the attack,” he said. “Conveniently saving your lives.”
“I happen to like that convenience,” Ace said.
“Then they gave you a place to run to when you had the data,” Ben said, ignoring Ace.
Morgan nodded. “Pretty damn convenient.”
“It’s a trap,” Ben said.
“Look who’s getting all paranoid on us.”
“I was always paranoid,” Ben said. “It doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Morgan said. “No it doesn’t.”
“Wait,” Ace said. “What’s going on here? You said we could trust them.”
“You heard what you wanted to hear,” Morgan said. “I told you that they work with my father’s brother,” she said. “I told you they were smugglers and thieves. I told you that I didn’t trust them.”
“You said they had an army that could help us,” Ace said, voice rising. “You said they could pull everything from the neurals we grabbed without alerting the UEF network.”
“They aren’t the only people in the known universe that can do that,” Ben said.
“So what are we saying here?” Ace asked.
The comm link clicked alive as the Lost passed the outer loop of the blockade. “Clear to proceed,” said a mechanized voice.
Morgan looked over at Ben. “It means we need a new place to go.”
“Look,” Ace said. “I might hear what I want to hear, but it sounds like your people are the kind of people to hold a grudge for a favor not returned, if you know what I mean.” He paused. “They’ll come looking for us.”
“No doubt,” Morgan said. “But so will the UEF. You know it’s true,” she said pointedly to Ace. “After what they did to those Marines? They’re soon going to know what we have, and they’re going to come for it.”
Ace sat back angrily. “Great. Just great! So now we got the entire universe after us? We were counting on your friends being a safe harbor. Now they’re after us. The UEF is after us. We’re out here with our asses hanging out, with nowhere to go.”
“We have somewhere we could go,” Ben said quietly.
He looked at Ace, then at Morgan, wondering if either of them would guess what he was about to say. “We can go find the Atlas.”
“Those coordinates are classified,” Morgan said.
Ben hesitated. “I might have looked up a few other things while I had classified access.” He paused. “Things that would get me flagged, and that I wouldn’t go near if I didn’t know I was leaving the planet and never coming back.”
“Damn, son,” Ace said. “Ballsy. But I still don’t see why we’re going after the Atlas.”
Because my father is still alive. I know it.
“Because if they really were sabotaged by the Oblivion and attacked by their alien friends, they might be the only people in the UEF that would actually believe us.”
“If any of them are alive. Didn’t you see what those shapeshifters can do?” Ace asked.
Ben raised his prosthetic arm. “Yeah, I know what they can do.”
“I just think it’s risky.”
“Where would you rather go?” Morgan asked.
Ace sat back, unhappy. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”
“Then that’s as good as anywhere,” Morgan said. She spun the computer input panel toward Ben while she initiated the fold sequence. He entered the coordinates.
Ben put on his mag bracelets. Morgan and Ace did the same.
Ace was right about one thing. People would be looking for them. They needed to move fast.
“Ready for this, boys and girls?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” Ben said.
“No,” Ace said.
Morgan nodded. “Initiating fold.”
Book 2: First Contact
Prologue
Ahmed Davis woke up as the twin suns poured light through the port window of his cramped quarters. If he had a choice, he’d get a few more hours in bed, but he was on watch today. Besides, he never had a choice. Not anymore.
One might think that after three years of living on Magellan 5, he’d be used to the rotating shifts, but he wasn’t. He’d been an artist once, and he’d liked that life. Waking when he wanted. Sleeping when he wanted. Doing anything when he wanted. It was glorious.
That ended the day he downed six Bliss Sticks and decided to fly his old junk hauler home. He smashed into a family headed home from their oldest daughter’s wedding. One boy was killed, one girl crippled. Ahmed had almost died, too. When he woke from his coma, he was sentenced to a convict crew on the farming world Magellan 5.
For the past thousand and ninety-five cycles, he’d wished he was dead. He had another thousand left to feel the same way.
Ahmed groaned as he stood up and stretched out. His uncomfortable cot did wonders for his already suspect back. Doctors had urged him to take painkillers and anti-inflammatories. He took the latter, but he swore he’d stay sober after the crash that had gotten him sentenced to this terrible planet. So he suffered in more ways than one as he stumbled across the long communal worker house to the bathrooms at the far end.
Though it was pretty early in the morning and the window shutters were still closed, Ahmed wasn’t the only colonist stirring at that hour. Those chosen for the day’s first shift were already on break. He could see them eating under their bed lamp lights, covered in the dirt and dust of the planet outside. Kitchen workers sat on the edges of their beds, putting on their white uniforms and black work boots.
Ahmed returned to his bunk and touched the wall sensor to reveal two small drawers. In one were his clothes and guard uniform. In the other was his safety gear: boots, gloves, goggles, and a scarf, all to protect his exposed skin from Magellan 5’s sandpaper-like high winds.
“HUD, play Jupiter by Gustav Holst,” ordered Ahmed. A second later, the orchestral music started to play in his head. “HUD, volume four.”
Ahmed made his way to the hall that led out of the communal workhouse. Enclosed, protected from the elements by little more than half-inch-thick super-glass, he looked outside to see what weather awaited him today.
The same as every day, dipshit. It was dry,
dusty, and windy out. But storm clouds, layered on top of each other, loomed overhead. Maybe he’d get lucky and some acid rain would break the monotony.
The cafeteria was a little livelier than the workhouse. Ahmed joined the long line of Magellan 5 colonists, trays in hand, waiting for their turn to be served mediocre food.
Ahmed was impatient. Part of it came from his overall frustration with his current life, but the other part came from the fact he could see the time through his HUD. He was running late.
Rua’s going to be pissed.
“Eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. White bread.” Ahmed pointed at the food he wanted. A tired-looking cafeteria worker half-heartedly scooped up some cold, flavorless artificial eggs, plopped down some disturbingly flexible mystery-meat bacon, and tossed on a couple of slices of old, stale toast.
Breakfast was served.
As he ate, Ahmed watched the UEF News One feed through his HUD. Nothing new. There were no developments on the biggest story as of late, the disappearance of the Atlas and her crew. Pundits came on and theorized about the ship’s possible fate. Mechanical or electrical fault, followed closely by an AIC attack, seemed to be the leading contenders. But with something like this, the utterly absurd was never far away. One pundit was sure it was a preplanned alien attack, and another claimed to have evidence of a massive space whale that swallowed it. That the news feed gave equal time to all the crazy theories was proof enough of the story’s popularity.
The cheap artificial food in Ahmed’s stomach felt unsettled as he hurried out the cafeteria towards the main complex airlock. It was the first step towards going outside and walking to his post. He entered the first lock, the so-called suit up room, with little hesitation. He was very late now.
As a guard, Ahmed had Level 2 clearance. That meant he could access weapons in the suit-up room, squared away in lockers against one wall. All it took was a wave of his hand and he could arm up with a light metal dragon-weave vest and a standard-issue UEF Mark 4 pulse rifle.
