by Drew Avera
7
Ilium
Knowing a pirate was on board his ship etched a smile onto Ilium’s face. There was something to be said about those who existed and thrived outside the parameters of conventional society. For Ilium, there was an allure to the world that rewarded those who operated in the near-limitlessness of success that beckoned for him to taste what that life was like. It was the lust for a better life that brought him to where he was now, but he was still stifled by the illusion of his life of constant pretending. There was no reward for his best work, only the contrived notion that there was something better waiting for him at a later time. Those better things did exist, but he still felt trapped and it led him to want to take things and apply his own expertise to it, to mold his own future outside of the organization he “worked” for. To do that, he needed anonymity and resources beyond what was currently available. He needed free reign and it was something he would never have under Haranger’s thumb.
The biggest allure to piracy was that it existed outside of the law, outside of the institutional mindset of military life. Both of the things that Ilium hated, but was subjected to nonetheless. He was naïve to think the organization would be without restrictions. If anything, it was just as cruel as actually serving in the military and he resented every minute of it. It was a means to an end, though, and Ilium grew up with aspirations beyond his current station in life, and he would not be satisfied until he accomplished all of his goals and succeeded in implanting himself as the ruler of the Greshian Empire.
Some would say he was insane to think in those terms, but insanity was just another person’s inability to comprehend his genius. He was certain he would have to prove himself time and time again, but it was a burden he was more than willing to bear if it meant he would be sitting at the proverbial throne of the Greshian Empire with the rest of the Alorian Galaxy under his control. A man can dream, he thought as he closed his eyes and lost himself in the ever-changing world of his imagination. Things always work out better in my head.
“Sir, are you busy?” Ilium hadn’t been aware that the door was open, but there stood Chief Harso, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe. There was a scowl on his face which made Ilium think he was either mad or nervous.
Maybe this has to do with hauling the transport on board and not killing the pirate, Ilium thought as he sat up in his chair to give his attention to Harso. “I’m always busy, but what do you need?” He asked, trying his best to sound like a commanding officer who showed concern for his sailors. The words and effort involved didn’t taste as bad as he thought they would.
The man smiled before stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. He turned and the look on his face shifted. It wasn’t the nervous, concerned expression on the ship’s security chief’s face Ilium had seen before, but a look of utter condemnation. “Look, kid, I know you think you’re the boss of this ship and I’m fine with you thinking that way, but you need to understand something right now. You are a pawn in a game much bigger than any of us. You have a job to do and you need to do it. Haranger contacted me and wanted me to demonstrate to you how this deal works.” Harso demeanor took an entirely different direction and it was unsettling for Ilium. Harso’s words were harsh, but there was something else about the delivery that didn’t sit right with Ilium. It was as if the words were rushed, rehearsed.
Two can play at this game. “Hold on,” Ilium interrupted him. “I’m the commanding officer of this ship and you will not speak to me with such indignation. I’m not your kid, I’m your superior,” he said, just short of shouting. He thought about standing to add to the delivery, but doing so might prompt the other man to become violent. Ilium chose to play it safe.
“It’s nice that you think that,” Harso replied. His face scrunched up into a sneer as he scowled at Ilium. For the first time since reporting to the Hamæråté, Ilium felt afraid. That’s the problem with people who blindly follow, either the military or the organization; they become deluded and convinced of their own superiority. “Your position is bullshit, just as my position is bullshit. All of this is to further the reach of the organization in charge of us. You need to play nice with the rules already established, or someone is going to put an end to you.” The man’s words were cold and flat.
“Is that a threat?” Ilium asked, his hands flat on his desk and a twitch in his right eye.
Harso smiled. “If it was a threat I wouldn’t have my weapon pointed at you from underneath the desk would I?”
Ilium scooted his chair back and looked at the barrel of the weapon aimed in his direction, there was a bit of a shake that made it look like Harso might be nervous, or he could have been doing so to bring Ilium to notice it. “What?”
“Yeah, you might want to get in line because the next time I have to correct you it will be with a bullet to the head.”
Ilium glared at the man, but said nothing. Rage built up in his heart and the only thing keeping his mouth shut was the gun pointed in his direction. He knew if Harso shot him that Haranger would cover it up and move on with someone else. That was how Haranger worked, killing the people in his way to obtain whatever goal he had his mind set on. For a time, Ilium thought he and Haranger were on the same page, but it was clear now that Ilium was just another tool at Haranger’s disposal. I’m not standing for that shit anymore.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Ilium said, nodding his head towards the gun.
Harso lifted the barrel away from Ilium and holstered the weapon. “It only takes one time,” Harso said. “One act of defiance, one word uttered to expose our secret, one anything; and I will end you. It’s not personal, unless you make it personal. This is nothing more than a bloody business transaction and you need to keep your hands clean. Do you understand?”
Ilium swallowed hard. “Yes, I understand.” His heart pounded in his chest as his anxiety caused him to breath faster. I hate being made to feel like someone’s bitch, he thought. But this is not going to happen again.
Harso smiled. “Good. Now, on to other business. Vesna is a good man, a little too into his job, but a good man nonetheless. I suggest you learn to play nice, or the bullet in this weapon will find you. As for the pirate you had us put in stasis, I agree with you. The man is no threat while in stasis and you never know when someone expendable needs to be used. With that said, I never admitted to this and I stand behind Vesna’s position that it is a violation of policy to have the pirate on board. I hope you have a plan to remove him soon.”
The last part caught Ilium off guard. “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied nervously. He was having a hard time reading the older man.
“I imagine this is a lot to take in. Just do me a favor and let me in on your plan so I can determine if it is suitable for our cause before you implement anything. I don’t want to undermine Haranger’s authority. We all know what that will get us.” Harso patted his weapon and then rose from his seat. He turned to walk out of Ilium’s office before stopping and facing him again. “I knew about you before you arrived; about how much of a hothead you are. That mentality does not work within our organization. If you plan to live to see old age, you will want to mind your tongue and fall in line.” Harso walked towards the door, his shoulders hunched as if under a large burden.
There’s something not right about this, Ilium thought as he watched Harso leave, letting the door slam closed behind him. Ilium said nothing in return, he knew it was another threat, or a reminder of the threat from moments before. He had no idea he was on the radar as someone who did not fit in, but with this new-found information, he knew he would have to change his behavior in order to not bring the wrath of Haranger. Or I can take matters into my own hand.
Harso opened the door, looking into Ilium’s eyes and said, “Have a wonderful day, sir.”
Ilium rose from his seat, adjusting the tail of his shirt in the process. “You too, Chief Harso. You too.” His response prompted a smile on Harso’s face as the door closed once more.
Alone once again, Ilium gave into his rage. How could I be so stupid, he thought. Everything I’ve worked for has been to meet my own goals, but I never stopped to see how I fit into the grand scheme of things. Perhaps I’m too concerned with myself, and that will never change. But maybe there is an opportunity here.
Ilium ran his hand along the console and brought up the file on Harso. He read everything about the man he could find, knowing that most of it was likely fabricated by Haranger. Still, there was information about his relatives. Harso had a wife and two children, both of which were older teenagers. Harso had been stationed on the Hamæråté for a few years, which meant he may not have seen his family much during that time. There’s a tool to be used with this information, he thought, but am I willing to use it?
“Yes I am,” he whispered under his breath, reaching for the communications switch and placing an encrypted message to an old friend. Jerot Manow was the person Ilium looked up to as a kid. Being a few years older than Ilium, Jerot had seen more things and experienced more than Ilium had and showed Ilium the ropes for how to survive on his own. Ilium trusted him because Jerot was a man who did not believe in close ties. Ilium considered him a friend, but he knew Jerot did not view him in the same way, though there was some equivalency there. Otherwise, Ilium would have been dead a long time ago.
The video screen came online and captured his image and he said, “Jerot, I hope everything is well with you. I’m afraid things on the Hamæråté are not as I hoped they would be. I was given the privilege of becoming the commanding officer of this vessel, but my crew has not fully embraced my tenure in command. I need you to do me a favor in hopes of persuading some of my dissenters to succumb to my leadership. I am attaching a file to this message. In it you will find the personal information of my biggest detractor. I’m sure you can find a creative way to win him over as a loyalist. If not, you know what to do. I can’t wait to see you again.”
Ilium closed the message and password protected it before sending it across the galaxy to Jerot. “That will teach you to cross me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and allowing a smile to form on his face. “I don’t need Haranger to get what I want and it’s about time he understands that as well.”
The room seemed to grow warm as Ilium sat in silence. He knew it would be hours before the message reached its destination, and perhaps days before Jerot took care of the situation, but floating in the dark, all Ilium had was time. It was more than he could say for someone else.
8
Deis
“Stay behind me,” Deis warned, his hand out to stop Malikea from passing him as he looked up into the Replicade. The cargo bay appeared empty, except for the sound he heard from outside still emanating from the center of the wide-open area. Crackling, that sounded like electrostatic interference hummed in the air around him as Deis silently moved further into the Replicade, his weapon drawn and his finger on the trigger. Malikea crept a few steps behind him, covering for Deis as he skittered across the deck to find another place to hide for cover. When Deis looked back he could see the fear in his lover’s eyes, despite the look of resolve forged on his face. They mixed about as well and oil and water. I can see in his eyes that he is forcing himself to stay strong because he never again wants to be made a victim. I can relate to that. If anything, their last encounter with Crase Tuin confirmed the fact they never wanted to be at the mercy of someone else again. It was a horrific time, but it also revealed to Deis who he truly was and accepting that was one of the hardest things he had ever done. I’m not as strong as I thought I was, he thought, but with Malikea I’m stronger than I ever was.
Disembodied voices cascaded through the atmosphere around them, almost as if there was rogue radio waves using the steal hull of the Replicade as an antennae, but Karanta didn’t use radio frequency for transmissions like most worlds. Instead, they relied on light signals and light replicators bouncing off a myriad of satellites orbiting their world. It was probably why the Greshian Empire had yet to target them, but it was only a matter of time before their advanced civilization posed a threat that Greshia would want to consume or dismantle permanently. That was the horror of the war in Deis eyes, cultures would die out regardless of how they were conquered.
The voices sounded once more, this time they seemed to come from behind him. He turned, but nothing was there. What is going on, Deis wondered. The voices haunted his thoughts, seeming to speak outside and inside of his head simultaneously. It grated on his nerves and made him worry he was going mad. If not for seeing the same worry on Malikea’s face, Deis might have given into the madness, but he knew he was not fighting it alone. But is it an enemy we can defeat?
The overhead lighting above Deis’ head erupted with a heavy rain of sparks and the cargo bay grew dim. He stifled a scream as fear coursed through his body and instead looked around for what could have caused the disturbance. Everything looked normal, but the feeling in the room was anything but normal. There was a presence so thick he thought he could reach out and touch it, but nothing was there. At least nothing he could see, yet.
“I don’t see anything,” Malikea whispered from the other side of the passageway. He held his weapon up, ready to draw down on anyone or anything that popped up. The steel of the weapon reflected the yellow of his eyes. Deis knew his husband wasn’t made for this kind of duty, he was a nurturer, not a fighter. Knowing that and seeing Malikea armed for a fight made Deis feel guilty, but this was their lives now, whether they liked it or not. This was survival.
“I don’t either,” Deis whispered in return, hoping his voice would not carry enough for whoever was on board to hear him. Just because he did not see them did not mean they were not watching him. That’s not a very comforting thought. He craned his head around the weapons crate and peered deeper into the cargo bay of the ship, but he saw nothing.
“Do you want to go around and meet up forward?” Malikea asked with a whisper. It was a good idea. If nothing else it would keep them from being out in the open. Even with a crate to hide behind, Deis still felt like an open target. His stomach turned at the thought he was hiding behind the same crate he used when Crase tried to overtake the ship. It was in a different location because of the overhaul efforts, but he was still using it for the same purpose, to remain hidden from whatever was out to get them.
Deis nodded and watched his husband turn and walk the length of the passageway, crouching down in the shadows of the ship to not be seen. Deis said a silent prayer that Malikea would not get caught, but the fear inside him was snuffing out whatever hope dared to form in his heart. Nothing was as terrifying to Deis as the unknown, especially after what he experienced on Farax. As if Malikea being abducted wasn’t bad enough, they were also attacked by a pirate and an old friend turned enemy. He never would have seen that coming, and then to have both terrifying things occur and be connected to one another was enough to destroy any hope he had at a normal life. Perhaps that’s what’s wrong, he thought, I can’t accept the fact things will never be normal again.
Once Malikea was out of sight, Deis made his way towards the forward part of the Replicade. There was no passageway on his side, but the wide-open cargo bay had a few obstructions he could hide behind. Steal crates full of weapons and supplies made the best barricades and he used them every few steps to try and keep out of sight. The entire time he heard the voices, sometimes in whispers and sometimes in his head. Never did he see exactly where they were coming from, though. Within a few minutes Deis made his way to the forward section of the ship where Malikea waited.
“Did you see anything?”
Malikea shook his head. “Nothing.” Deis could see the worry on Malikea’s face as he breathed heavily. Walking the length of the cargo bay did not require much effort, so it was fear causing Malikea to gasp for air. The same fear terrorizing Deis.
“What is going on here?”
Malikea shrugged, looking behind him, his hot breath steaming the shiny surface of his we
apon.
The answer to that question came in the form of a loud burst of blue and green electricity arcing across the inside bulkhead of the ship. It came with a popping sound more reminiscent of steel snapping than of any explosion Deis had ever heard. It almost sounded as if the ship was breaking in half, but nothing seemed to be moving around them. Deis half-expected the deck to split up the middle and toss him and Malikea into the steel bulkheads, piercing their bodies with jagged shrapnel. Instead, it was just one loud and frightening sound paralyzing him with fear. The cargo bay filled with blinding light and Deis could hear Malikea groan as his eyes burned in the brilliance of it. He was surprised that as sharp as the light was, there seemed to be no heat radiating from it, but instead he felt cold as goosebumps prickled his flesh.
“That’s odd,” he said, his fear melting into curiosity as he waved his hand in the light. It was so bright that he could make out the bones in his fingers as the light shone through his gray skin like an x-ray.
With one hand in front of him, trying to block the piercing light, he stepped out into the open, allowing himself to be fully immersed in the light. Malikea said something behind him, but he did not understand what he was saying from the loud buffeting sound surrounding him.
I think I’m inside of something, he thought, reaching his hand out to the arcing electricity, branches of blue light contacting his skin and tingling up and down his body. If there were hairs on his body, he imagined they would be standing on end, but surprisingly the sensation caused no pain at all. The deeper into the event he stepped the more he heard something familiar; a sing song version of a voice reverberating through a myriad of frequencies, but the tone of it sat in his mind as one that he knew.
“Who’s there?”
There was no answer, but the sound grew louder, more defined, more feminine.