“Cern, Harry,” the captain clarified at his continued silence.
“Oh.” That home. They weren’t thinking of—no, they wouldn’t!—getting rid of him? No … the captain had said they needed to lay low. That was different. But he wasn’t welcome back on Cern. As far as his tribe was concerned, he’d been banished. For good. They’d considered it a mercy to give him a task to tend to, even in exile. And he’d failed at that, too, in the end, once the cargo herders had come and taken him away, along with his donkey wards. No, he couldn’t go back to Cern. Could he?
Harry gulped. “I’ve never been to a pleasure resort before…”
“Hah!” Redbeard exclaimed.
A motion at the edge of Harry’s vision caught his notice. Spiner stood, staring straight at him. “Harry,” he said. “You’ve said that we are friends. I never understood what that meant, until you showed me compassion. Even then, it took … an internal change in perspective … for me to understand what that really meant.”
Harry’s ears straightened. “Friends. Yes, of course we’re friends, Spiner!”
“I’ve been researching this, Harry,” Spiner continued, “and I’ve learned that friends do favors for each other, sometimes.”
Redbeard groaned and started to mumble something, but Cass cut him off with a wave of the hand.
Harry felt very confused. And conflicted. Being important was hard. People wanted things from him. “What do you need, friend?” he asked Spiner.
“I need to visit the Overseer’s lair on Cern, Harry.”
“The Overlord!” Harry exclaimed, even more confused. Why would Spiner possibly want to visit the Overlord? So far as Harry knew, the lair was sealed off, anyway. “But no one’s heard from the Overlord for years and years. Not since my Grandma Ambly’s grandma’s grandma!”
Spiner’s face took on that distant look again. “I can’t exactly explain, Harry. At least, not yet. Will you do this for me? Will you vote for our return to Cern?”
“Umm…”
Zuckberg’s tail twitched again. “Are there any dogs there? A harem, maybe?”
Harry frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dogs there. In fact, you’re the first dog I’ve ever met.”
“Oh.”
Captain Cass drummed her fingers on her chair again. “Come on, Harry. We need a decision. The longer we sit out here in open space, the better chance someone will spot us. Let’s get on with it.”
Friend. Harry sighed. He couldn’t very well turn Spiner down, could he? What kind of friend would he be, then? Home, Buddy … would you like to go home? Buddy would no doubt appreciate the chance to roam the lush, open fields of Cern again.
If Harry was going to be important, then he’d have to learn to make the difficult choice, even if it didn’t seem to benefit him.
Redbeard gave Harry a warning look. “‘Arry,” the big man said, “ain’t we friends, too? Thar was tha’ time I … er … well, I…” He trailed off, looking perplexed.
Harry was a little touched by Redbeard’s attempts to make a moving “what are friends for” speech like Spiner, but he also had to admit the ginger giant hadn’t been nearly as nice to him as Spiner in the past. After all, Redbeard had wanted to space him in the beginning. Spiner had never wanted to do that.
“Okay,” he said at last. “I’ve decided. And I choose … Cern.”
Redbeard stomped his feet against the metal flooring, his face reddening. “Blimey, ‘Arry! I’m yer friend, too!”
“Red!” barked the captain. “No tantrums aboard my ship! It’s decided. Computer, set course for Kepler One-Eight-Six-Eff.”
“Fine, whatever…” grumbled Node.
Home. Was Cern still his home?
Harry reflected again upon his recent changes, his confinement inside of his host. What would his tribe think? What would his Grandma Ambly think?
He supposed he’d find out soon enough…
15
Hawke
Is this what unimportant feels like? Hawke slung his duffel-bag over his shoulder and meandered down a winding corridor, away from the rental dormitory cube. No one gave him a second glance. Not a single nod of recognition, no salutes. He was just another person now, going about a normal civilian life. His days of making the galaxy a better place, of leading the Federation into a better tomorrow, were over. Now, the only things left to him were packed in a single duffel bag, and all that was left for him to do was … well, whatever unemployed civilians did. He supposed he needed to find another job, eventually.
His shoulders slumped as he stepped into the nearest lift, cramming in-between some jumpsuited maintenance workers, and pushed the button for the civilian docks. He sighed.
What could possibly follow being a Rear Admiral in the most superior organization in the galaxy?
He glanced to the maintenance workers in the lift with him as it slid smoothly down Star Station Alpha’s many levels. He could never do something like that … never repair ships or machinery. He’d get all … greasy.
He eyed the stains on their jumpsuits with disdain, then checked the cleanliness of his own crisply pressed button-up shirt and spotless slacks. It was nothing compared to the tailored fit of his Federation uniform, of course, and he missed the rows of rank and accolades across his breast, but … such was his life now.
He sighed again, slumping further beneath the weight of his duffel bag.
Well, he still had one Yahtzee up his sleeve. No, wait, that wasn’t right. Yahtzee used dice. Hawke shook his head. He’d never been great at those things called games. He’d always had too much important work to do. Card. That’s it. Card! I still have one card up my sleeve! He straightened and held his head up high. I’m going to find my secret weapon and bring it back to the Federation. I’ll get my old job back, and I won’t have to worry about doing anything else for a living.
He just hoped this quest would actually pay off, because he would probably have to spend all the savings he had left to buy a ship capable of going after his secret weapon in the first place. And he’d need to stretch his purchasing power, at that. He’d probably have to settle for taking a look at the used ship lot. Maybe even the impound...
The lift slowed and stopped, and the doors opened for the maintenance workers to depart. Hawke breathed a sigh of relief as they stepped out. Grease wasn’t easy to get out of khaki, and he’d been worried their close proximity would mar his appearance.
A new person made to step into the lift, but stopped abruptly as his eyes met Hawke’s.
“Uh…” the young man said.
“Corporal McGee!” Hawke blurted. “How good to see you here! Imagine that! Come in, come in, there’s plenty of room.” Hawke stepped to the side and gestured at the now wide-open lift. “Where’re you headed?” Hawke was beyond thrilled to have someone he knew to chat with in this lonely retirement of his. And a member of the Federation, no less! He hoped McGee would be going all the way down to the docks as well.
McGee froze in place, his eyes darting to either side of the corridor several times before he hesitatingly stepped forward and into the compartment. The doors closed, and the lift continued downward. McGee pressed himself into the far corner. Poor fellow must be fighting an allergic reaction, or maybe some kind of relentless itch, judging by the fidgety look of him. “Rear Admiral,” he muttered.
Hawke’s enthusiasm dampened a bit at the title. He cleared his throat. “Oh. Ah, no, I’m not Rear Admiral anymore. Just Hawke.” Unimportant.
McGee looked up, eyebrows lifting as relief seemed to smooth his features. “Really?”
Hawke nodded, mouth set in a grim line. But then he tried to force himself to cheer up. He was going to change all that soon, after all. He stepped forward to clap the young man on the shoulder, noticing then that McGee, too, was currently dressed as a civilian. “Call me Eilhard,” he said.
McGee grimaced. “Ummm. Is it okay if I just call you Hawke?”
Hawke shrugged. “Sure. So, you headed to
the docks then as well, Corporal?”
McGee shifted on his feet, his eyes sliding away to study the floor-count display. “Yep. Uh … you too?”
Hawke nodded. “Yes, indeedie! I’m going on an adventure!”
McGee glanced at him again. “How exciting, sir—er, I mean—Hawke.”
Hawke eyed the young man speculatively, the thread of a thought suddenly occurring to him. “You know, I might need a dog handler on this adventure.”
McGee’s dull gaze brightened. “Oh yeah? You paying?”
That gave Hawke pause. He considered. If he managed to track down his secret weapon and bring it back to the Grand COG, then demonstrate how very useful the dog could be … he was sure the Grand COG himself would offer a reward—to Hawke and whoever might have helped him secure the dog—handsomely. “Yes,” he said. “Oh yes, I’m paying. There will be riches beyond your imagining when we’re done with this one!”
McGee didn’t seem entirely convinced. “I don’t know, sir—Hawke. I have a pretty good imagination.” The young man’s skeptical gaze took in Hawke’s dress and duffel bag. “And no offense, but you don’t exactly look like you’re in a position to be paying much, if at all.”
“Well, I don’t have it now,” Hawke admitted. “But I will. Come with me, and you’ll see. You won’t be disappointed. That is, I mean, as long as it won’t take away from your Federation duties, of course.”
McGee dropped his eyes, fidgeting again. “Uh, no, it wouldn’t. I’m, uh, well … I took an extended, uh, mental health break. I needed some time away. After, you know, the destruction of the Brickhouse and Zuckberg going missing and all...”
Hawke nodded gravely and squeezed the man’s shoulder. “I understand, Corporal.”
McGee shifted slightly, breaking Hawke’s hold on his shoulder. “Sooo, sure. I have some time to kill, I guess. And I do miss having a dog to handle. To tell the truth, I miss Zuckberg. Bastard though he was.”
Hawke grinned. This was all working out just peachily. “Come with me, then. I think you’ll enjoy this … mission.”
McGee nodded. “Okay. Why not? I’ll just need to grab the rest of my things.”
“Excellent. You have a ship?”
McGee blinked and frowned. “What? No. Don’t you?”
Hawke kept the grin plastered on his face. “Sure. Of course I do. You get your things and meet me at, uh….” He paused, unsure of where exactly he’d be after he found a ship. “I’ll message you the docking berth, but it will be somewhere around Zed Alpha.”
The lift stopped at the docking level at last and the doors slid open silently.
“Wait,” McGee said as Hawke stepped out, “Zed Alpha? Isn’t that by the impound lot?”
Hawke turned to face the young man and kept on smiling. “What? Don’t worry about it. Just meet me there when you’re ready, okay?”
“Uhhh…”
The doors started to close and Hawke waved goodbye. “See you soon, Corporal!”
Once the doors had eclipsed McGee’s confused features, Hawke turned and made his way toward Star Station Alpha’s used ship lot, which happened to be on the same level as the civilian docks. Curiously, his steps felt lighter than they had since the destruction of the Brickhouse. Perhaps it was the joy of having found a companion to embark with upon this venture. McGee wasn’t the most brilliant of sailors—he couldn’t compare to Bambi or Anasua by far—but he was certainly better than having no one at all.
And with another crew-member on board, Hawke himself could be Captain of the ship. Whatever ship he ended up getting. And that wasn’t unimportant, was it?
16
Redbeard
“Meow.” Kitt’s tail twitched as the last of the cows trundled down the ramp.
Redbeard glanced to her and lifted one bushy brow. He could only imagine what instincts she was forced to suppress on a day-to-day basis, least of all at a time like this. Clusters of large prey animals being restored to a natural environment of lush, open fields and rolling hills. He had half a mind to chase after them, himself.
The sky was bright and blue, and big fluffy clouds drifted lazily by.
A light, comfortable breeze rustled the long grass and trailed up the ramp, sending a tingle up his spine. He shrugged it off, trying to hold on to the swiftly fleeing traces of irritation he’d been nursing since Harry’s tie-breaking vote. He leaned his shoulder back against the large doorway’s edge. “Oy, it’s no pleasure resort, but it could be worse, I s’pose…”
Kitt only mewled her annoyance and pranced back into the cargo hold, out of sight.
Redbeard sighed. Perhaps she didn’t agree.
“Oh, exciting,” enthused a new voice. The little beaver-man sidled up alongside Redbeard, peering down into the valley. “Will you look at that?”
“Look at wha’?” Redbeard asked. Bieber was alright enough, in his book. Not much of a fighter, but he’d proven handy with his tools and smarts in more than one pinch.
Bieber pointed in the direction of a quaint compound on the far side of the field. There was a flat, circular area there that reminded Redbeard of a landing pad, with a few utilitarian, rectangular buildings arranged around it. “A relic of a simpler time,” Bieber explained, “before humanity had mastered the stars. That would’ve been where an unmanned ship landed, hundreds of years prior, sent from Earth to ‘seed’ terraformable planets for potential habitation and colonization.”
Redbeard felt his mind quickly glazing over at the info dump, but the eager Bieber blabbered on, oblivious to his audience’s waning attention span.
“It would have dropped off an AI and perhaps some helper robots here to get the process started. That compound was built by the robots to act as their home base while they prepared the planet!”
Redbeard grunted. The place appeared to be abandoned, all overgrown, showing rust in some places and bird droppings and bird nests in a lot more places. Clearly humanity had forgotten about this place, because the old compound was the only evidence of a human touch for as far as the eye could see. “Not much to look at,” he muttered.
He turned his gaze back to the animals—cows, bulls, roosters, hens, and, of course, donkeys—that had been their burden since besieging the SS Bray. Harry stood in their midst, trying to direct them away from the ship, while Cass looked on with folded arms. Spiner stood off to the side, quiet, as usual. “Least we won’t ‘ave ta feed those lil’ mess makers no more,” Redbeard commented. “Almost broke tha bank, tryin’ ta keep ‘em fed!”
Though he was still a little put out they’d never gotten to cash in on the exorbitant sum offered for fresh beef these days. But then again, if he ever had to smell livestock dung again, it would be too soon.
“What?” Bieber asked, reaching up to adjust his oval spectacles. He didn’t seem to have been listening. In fact, it was likely he’d still been prattling on about the wonders of terraforming and robots.
Redbeard didn’t mind. So long as he had someone to talk at, in turn. He grinned. “More money fer us now, is all.” He scanned the valley again. There wasn’t much else to look at though besides grass and sky. When he’d suggested finding a pleasure resort, it wasn’t because he was pining for the great outdoors. No, if he’d wanted that, he’d never have left home. Never left his twin behind...
Sonia, he thought with a sigh. Where was she now? Unbidden, his brain formed the image of her clutching her belly as she rose to the defense of that traitorous bastard. Djerke!
“I’ll fookin’ kill ‘im with me bare ‘ands!” he suddenly shouted.
The animals milling about the bottom of the ramp startled at his booming voice and scattered out across the field.
The beaver-man took a few steps back, his shoulders stooped self-defensively, beady eyes huge behind the lenses of his spectacles.
Captain Cass and Harry whipped around to stare up at him, too, eyes wide as Bieber’s.
Redbeard straightened, feeling his face grow hot. Had he said that out loud?
/>
“Err, sorry,” he muttered.
Bieber pointed again, all fear immediately forgotten as something else caught his attention. “Huh. Will you look at that?”
“Wha’?”
“Ever seen such a variety of animals traveling together? They almost look … organized.”
Redbeard scrunched up his face and tried to follow Bieber’s arm. “I don’t see nuthin’.” He squinted. And then … he thought he saw it. But it seemed so odd, he blinked multiple times just to be sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. The image stayed the same.
It was real. Out on the horizon, approaching the ship, were a donkey, a bull, and a chicken of some sort. Had those been from the SS Bray? But no, there were others … a mole?! And a squirrel? He’d almost missed the goat entirely. “Blimey, is tha’ some sorta little army?”
Zuckberg appeared out of nowhere, running halfway down the ramp before he halted abruptly and stared, ears up and tongue lolling. “Is that a harem?” he shouted. “But where are the dogs?!”
Cass pitched her voice toward them, ignoring the furry lil’ zucker, “Redbeard, Bieber. Get down here.”
Redbeard trudged down the ramp, almost feeling reluctant. He missed the good old days of bashing heads and shooting at Feds. This felt more like some messed-up kind of diplomacy … or animal husbandry. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
“Who is that?” Cass was asking Harry as Redbeard finally joined them.
Harry’s ears drooped as he caught sight of the strange grouping. Maybe he shared Redbeard’s sentiments? “Oh, dear…”
“Wha’ is it, ‘Arry?” Redbeard asked, his doubts about this whole situation not soothed in the least by Harry’s reaction.
Harry gulped. “It’s the Elder Council. I’m not supposed to be here.”
17
Harry
The day was already off to a bad start, as far as Harry was concerned. He’d spent countless hours and days as a pirate intern, working to keep the cargo hold clean (an impossible, almost thankless task), which had at least given him a sense of purpose. And then, when at last he’d graduated to full pirate, it had been less than a day of showing his new intern the ropes before the entire job was being LET OFF THE SHIP!
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