by Drew Avera
“I will if you give me a reason to stay. Just say it.”
For a long, silent moment, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. Crase’s heart beat wildly in his chest with expectancy. She was the only person he thought of on his return trip, and he imagined the same was true for her. he could see it between each blink of her eyes, but she kept it just beneath the surface, not saying the words he longed to hear. Finally, a movement, but she backed away, glancing towards the door and back at him. Her silence told him everything and nothing. And then she walked quietly away.
Alone with his thoughts, Crase contemplated the door, but he no more wanted to step out into the looming sandstorm than he wanted to lop off his own leg. She’ll come around, he thought as he reclined back in the chair. I hope.
4
Ilium
With the ship cast in darkness, Ilium’s heart pounded. Nothing electronic worked, not even the gods forsaking emergency lighting wired throughout the ship. “Stavis, what are we going to do?” He asked as two men from a small security detail closed in behind him.
“I think the device was activated,” she replied solemnly. She held her weapon in her hand, using the laser sight as a means to see. The temperature of the offline ship already grew colder after mere minutes of the engines shutting down. “You,” she said, pointing towards one of the guards, “go to Security and inform the CoS of my location. Tell him to send every available unit to the XO’s stateroom.” The guard nodded and moved towards the door. “Also, have him get in contact with Medical to send someone to take care of the body.”
“Aye, sir,” the guard responded before running from the door, a small flashlight his only means of seeing where he was going.
“What about me, sir?” The remaining guard asked.
Stavis stared up at him. “You’re protecting the Captain.”
“I think I can take care of…” Ilium started before she darted her eyes in his direction. Even in dim lighting, the intensity of her gaze suggested she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Probably a good idea, though, Lieutenant.”
She smirked and moved around the room. “We need to see if there’s any bulkhead panels recently removed where Quino could hide the device. I feel like it has to be close by if it reacted to his death so quickly.”
“You think it was wired to him in some way?” Ilium asked.
“No, I think it calculated his heartrate and once his heart stopped beating, then it activated.”
“If that’s the case, maybe we can find the heartrate monitor and use it to bring the electricity back,” Ilium suggested, moving towards Quino’s body. Quino lay in a heap, blood pooled beneath him which Ilium didn’t notice in the darkness until he noticed the stickiness of his fingers. “What am I looking for?”
“If it’s not a device mounted to his body, then it will be an implant. Check his wrists and chest for an exterior monitor. Otherwise, let the medical crew open him up,” Stavis replied while her hands followed the seams in the paneling along the bulkhead. “But I think it’s a longshot. The kind of equipment used for something like this is usually a one-time use item. I doubt it can be reset.”
“We need to try,” Ilium replied. “Guard, can you check the bulkhead over there to help Lieutenant Stavis conduct her search? Time is running out.”
“Aye, sir,” the guard snapped, lowering his weapon into its holster and kneeling to conduct his own search. Ilium was sure the heavy armor made doing the job more difficult, but he appreciated the effort. Without power to run the ship, they were a floating target, or at risk of being caught by the gravitational pull of a celestial object. Either way could result in their destruction and it wasn’t something high on his agenda to allow happen.
His hands patted down Quino’s body, and beneath the robe, Ilium found a small metal device attached to the man’s chest. “I think I found something.”
Stavis stopped searching her area and shifted over to Ilium. “What is it?”
“I don’t know, shine your light on his chest.”
The red laser fell on Quino’s body and next to the entry wound they found a rectangular object implanted in his skin. “It’s hard to tell in this light, but it looks like a fried electronic device. It’s possible this was the monitoring element supplying data to the device,” Stavis said, “but we need better lighting and better minds to figure this out.”
The sound of several footsteps running down the passageway drew Ilium’s attention to the door. Outside, several beams of white light danced along the bulkheads and reflected off the deck. Soon after, the first of a dozen guards stopped outside the door. “Lieutenant, the chief sent us to you, how can we be of assistance?”
Stavis rose from the deck and approached the guard. “We’ve experienced an EMP attack and we need to find the device to shut it down. The device is roughly the size of a waste bin and could be hidden inside of a faux wall bulkhead, but it could be anywhere else as well. This is a large ship and we need as many eyes searching for it as possible.”
“Each of us could go to a different department and engage a full-scale search,” the lead guard suggested.
Stavis nodded. “Do it and be quick. Our lives depend on it.”
“Aye, sir,” the guard said, turning to his men. “You heard the Lieutenant, you three move to the fifth deck and work your way up. You three take the eighth level and work down. I will go to the bridge and the rest of you will search the hangar and cargo bay. Got it?”
The guards affirmed and instantly darted off in the directions they were sent as the lead guard turned to face Stavis. “I’ll send a messenger to you every hour or when we find something.”
“How will you know if comms are down?” Ilium asked.
Stavis turned, “Their radios are battery powered, but we don’t have very many of them.”
“Correct,” the guard said. “We have five operational, two are being repaired. Thankfully the CoS didn’t get rid of them when we went through the upgrade to ship’s system comms.”
“He’s always been forward thinking,” Stavis said. “Good luck, I hope you find it soon.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard replied, turning and running down the passageway, disappearing into the darkness.
Stavis turned back to Ilium and he noticed the worry on her face. “I’m beginning to think we should have done something when we first discovered the device,” she said.
Ilium hated to agree with the sentiment, but he believed in her ability to pull off the surveillance to allow them to get to the bottom of Quino’s plan. She had done that, but still, being thrust into darkness on a dead ship wasn’t much of a consolation prize for being right. “We’ll find it,” he said finally. “We have to.”
5
Gen-Taiku
Cold air billowing from the vents of the ship stirred Gen from her slumber. The temperature plummeted far enough to cause the tears in her eyes to harden to slush and she wiped it away, grimacing as the tiny shard of ice racked against her eyeballs. Only the dull blue light from the center console emitted any illumination to see, and she found herself trembling as she rose from the steel deck. “Are you trying to kill me, Pilot? I didn’t mean anyone any harm. I’m trying to save lives.”
“Save your own,” Pilot replied as the door to the bridged cycled open with a whooshing sound. “Do not return.”
Gen turned to see the opened door, pale emergency lighting providing a means to escape, but she didn’t want to take it, she wanted to plead her case. “You’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake was you coming here. Now, leave.”
Gen inhaled a gulp of cold air, burning her lungs on the way down as she felt the first signs of a deep cough urging its way up. She covered her mouth with a blue-tinged hand, realizing how numb it felt in the cold. Anger fueled her as she stepped off the bridge and into a warmer part of the ship. Part of her wanted to feel relieved as the warmth was welcomed, but resentment overcame any sense of gratitude. Her boot heels clacked aga
inst the deck as she traversed the narrow passageways. Coming to the ladder well leading to the cargo bay, she paused, looking back at the bridge to see the door cycle closed again, shutting her off from the AI and any chance of convincing it to listen to her. “To hell with you,” she hissed, grabbing hold of the railing and working her cold, stiff body downward.
At the bottom of the ladder well, she found the opened cargo bay door cranked open. The ramp led down to the landing pad where sand crept along the surface like slithering reptiles cresting over one another with each gust of wind. She pulled her goggles down over her face, hating this part of the day, when something caught her attention. She knelt behind a box and peered out the cargo ramp and noticed armed security moving about the landing area. They were military, and she knew what they were after.
“Pilot, I know you don’t trust me, but please don’t send me out there now. Those guards are looking for resistance fighters, if they see me, they will haul me in and kill me.”
Silence followed as her chest heaved up and down with each frantic breath. She looked around the box again, watching the guards move in groups of two, weapons held at the ready as they marched in step next to one another. The surveillance of the area was just getting underway, which meant boarding open ships was imminent. She hated to think about the moment they boarded the Replicade and found her cowering in a corner with her blaster drawn. How many can I take out before they kill me? Not many, she thought, looking at her weapon.
“Pilot, please. I’m begging you to let me stay until they dispatch. If they board this ship and find me, it will implicate your crew,” she urged. There was truth in her words. The crew may not be involved with the Pilatian rebellion, but if there was evidence of hiding a member of that rebellion, then guilt by association would see their ship destroyed, and with it, their lives. “Think about it, or whatever you AI computers call it. By protecting me, you’re saving your crew. I promise not to touch anything and as soon as they’re gone, I’ll leave too.” Her voice cracked with fear as she cowered behind the box, dim sunlight shining in next to her feet where she watched the brightness flicker as movement outside cast shadows by obscuring the light. How close they were to boarding she did not want to think about because she was soon to experience it, she felt it in her bones as her body thawed from the iciness she felt from the bridge.
“Please. Don’t let them find me,” she said, barely above a whisper.
The soft mechanical churn of a motor purred behind her and she watched the light of the cargo bay dim as the ramp closed. She dared to look back, the burden of discovery falling away as the outside world closed off to her. Once the ramp fully shut, the sound of the locks bolting closed filled her ears. As loud as it was, causing a ringing in her ears, she finally let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, I owe you one.”
Pilot said nothing, but a blinking blue light across the cargo bay, shining in Gen’s direction led her to believe the AI was watching her. She stared at it, hoping to elicit a response, but silence was her only companion on the mighty warship. “I suppose I deserve the silent treatment for breaking in and poking around, but you have to believe I had good intentions in doing so. My people are held captive by the Empire. All we want is our freedom and some of us are willing to do anything to get it. Where is the fault in that?”
She stared at the blinking light she associated with the AI and for a long moment it continued blinking, before going out, and with it, the emergency lighting; casting Gen in darkness once again. At least it’s warm down here, she thought as she wrapped her tunic around her body and leaned her head against the bulkhead.
6
Brendle
While stepping into the elevator, Brendle’s thoughts shifted to his last day on the Telran. Other than thinking he was going to die, the trepidation in his heart felt exactly the same. Why would the Emperor’s daughter want to see me? What does she have planned? It was those questions that filled him with dread.
The Greshian woman from the hospital stood next to him, her attire more in-line with the Pilatians, than Greshian, but he assumed it was to help her fit in, despite her pale skin and wholly Greshian features. “So, do I get a brief on this meeting or am I going in cold?” Brendle asked as the elevator began its ascent.
The woman cleared her throat. “Princess Herma sent me to come get you. I am not privileged enough to know her interests in you, just that not bringing you would fill her with disappointment.”
“Well, I’d hate to fill her with that,” Brendle said, trying to be funny, but only eliciting a snide glare from his escort.
“We shall see, it’s not looking good so far,” the woman replied, an obvious attempt at a jab.
Brendle smiled, more from nervousness than the apparent rise he got out of the woman. “I’m out of practice. I was much better at kissing up to higher ups when I was still a Greshian.” Why did I say that? I’m just digging myself a deeper grave for Princess Herma to bury me.
As the elevator slowed, the woman canted to look him in the face. “I do have one bit of advice for you, Mr. Quinn.”
“What is that?”
“Don’t try to be funny. It falls on deaf ears.”
The elevator stopped with a soft chime and the woman stepped out first, gesturing for Brendle to follow the marbled path leading to an enormous window overlooking the city of Dorit. The cityscape was magnificent from his viewpoint as he looked down on it, and he imagined what it must feel like to oversee such a place from this vantage point. It’s enough to make you think you’re more than you really are.
“I trust Pedero was a courteous escort?” Princess Herma said as she walked out of the shadows. Her emerald robes matched her eyes as she walked gracefully towards Brendle. Seeing her made him tremble, but for what reason he did not know.
Beauty?
Fear?
“She was. Good evening, your highness,” Brendle replied, bowing slightly, but feeling self-conscious as to whether it was appropriate given his exile.
Herma bowed proportionate to the effort he displayed with a smirk on her face. “You are nervous being here with me. Does the emperor’s daughter seem threatening to you?”
Brendle’s mind was a blur of thoughts. The easy answer was yes, but it was dishonest. “To tell you the truth, I’m concerned for my girlfriend, Anki. My thoughts are clouded with worry for her wellbeing.”
“The Luthian?”
“Yes.”
“I see. I suppose when you see someone who’s lost everything, it only makes sense to pity them. I can’t say I see the attraction to such a mundane race of people, though.”
Brendle bit his tongue to keep from speaking his mind. “I assure you, mundane is not a word to describe Anki Paro.”
Princess Herma flittered her fingers dismissively as she looked out the large window. Below them, the daily protests formed with several hundred Pilatians gathered in an effort to make the Imperial Princess leave their world behind. “They are pathetic, you know?”
“Them?” Brendle asked, pointed towards the window, “or are you talking about some other non-Greshians?” The bite of his words stung as they left his lips.
She smiled, her crimson lips parting enough to show her teeth; the one surprising imperfection to her lineage. “They protest my existence which is the only thing allowing them to continue as a people. Tell me, am I not benevolent in my actions of occupying their little world that my father is hellbent on destroying?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it depends on your reason for doing it. Are you here to protect them, or are you just here for adulation from people who did not grow up in fear of your family?” Brendle realized right away his question sounded accusatory, but he wasn’t about to apologize. Especially considering he still had no idea why he was there.
“I want to do the right thing, Mr. Quinn. You could never know what it was like growing up the way I did, the loneliness of having a father wrapped up in conquering foreign powers and not having the time to give his chi
ld any love.”
Brendle turned to her, instantly feeling sorry for her as he heard the pain beneath her words. “I’m sorry for what you experienced, but your childhood mirrors that of many on our world. Our parents are expected to excel at levels beyond their natural potential and in so doing, they leave their children as fodder for victimhood. I lived on the streets to help provide for my mother because my father’s aspirations outgrew his family, and I was as far from imperial blood as I could be.”
Princess Herma spun on her heels to face him. “You think you’re like me?”
Brendle shook his head. “I think everyone in this galaxy is more alike than any of us will ever admit,” he replied.
She stared at him, cold emerald eyes welling with tears. “I need your help and in return I will remove the exile placed on you by the Greshian Navy. You will once again be a Greshian. Will you help me?”
The request came like a kick in the gut. He knew it was coming, yet still it momentarily crippled him. This was a moment he never thought would be possible, yet here he was, moments from setting things right that he had no idea he craved to fix. I would be able to speak to my mother without endangering her, he thought. “What would you have me do?”
Princess Herma smiled.
7
Crase
Crase woke with stiff joints, but otherwise a new man. Coming from the brink of death, returning to Farax did more to restore his spirits than he thought, but still lingering doubts flooded through his mind. his heart was torn. Part of him wanted to stay, to put his old life behind him, to curb his rage and move on. The other part wanted to take back what was his and he was willing to do anything to feel the satisfaction of reclaiming the Replicade.