A Simple Mission

by Daniel Gibbs

  But there was nothing. Nothing but the quiet darkness of the quarters. The only noise, discernible only in this silence, was that of the air circulators of the life support systems from the nearby machinery that serviced the deck's atmosphere.

  James Henry was never the most spiritual man, but he had been raised to believe in a just God, and the idea God had sent His son to die for the sins of all beings. Part of that belief was the conviction that God was with everyone who believed, a connection in the soul shared with the mortal beings crafted in His divine image, a relationship that gave strength when it was needed. And never in his life, not even in the midst of furious battle, had he wanted to feel the connection more than he did now. To feel it, to know what was on the other end, and to let it give him courage to stand for what his heart told him was the right thing.

  Yet he felt nothing. Nothing except his own fear for the future and his helpless despair at how his life had been ruined. There was no reassurance from within to assure him of success should he listen to his heart, only the assurance from his mind that his only hope to salvage what he had left was to surrender.

  Warm tears flowed from his eyes as he stood up. He brought on the lights with a word and went to the small bathroom closet that the quarters came equipped with. The light was stark as he stared into the small mirror above the sink. Red lines and splotches filled his bloodshot eyes from the stress in his being. He looked into the reflection of those eyes and, through the fear and the despair, felt a third terrible feeling.

  Shame.

  It was at that moment that he knew what he was going to do, and he felt his heart break in two.

  Henry walked to the table and picked up the digital reader with the plea agreement. And with tears still flowing from his eyes, he signed his name to the bottom of the document.

  6

  Shadow Wolf

  Approaching Yan'katar

  Katar System, Independent Space

  17 April 2559

  * * *

  The planet Yan'katar was in a system with a G3 sequence star. The fourth planet in the system and a fully-developed garden planet, habitable for most known species.

  Automated planetary traffic systems hailed the Shadow Wolf as she burned in from the Lawrence line, assigning her a route and speed. On the bridge, Henry and Yanik watched Cera bring them in. Yanik's eyes blinked. "It reminds me of Jeshh'ka," he said.

  Henry nodded, recognizing the name for the Saurian Homeworld that Yanik's national group used, much like how Human languages could have different, sometimes greatly different, words for their own homeworld.

  Tia looked up from her station. "According to the packet, there's a population of Saurians in the southern hemisphere of the world. 'Tsh'krey'?"

  Yanik hissed, "A cult on my world. What you would call pacifists, so unpopular."

  "Ah." Henry nodded in acknowledgment.

  "I'm bringin' us in," Cera said.

  The Shadow Wolf descended toward the equator. This brought them a view of an impressive spectacle. High above Yan'katar's central city, a multi-armed space station was kept in delicate geosynchronous orbit, tied to the planet itself by the cables of a twin-structure space elevator. They watched as one car dropped from the station to begin a descent to the ground below.

  They lost sight of this as Cera brought the Shadow Wolf into its descent. The dark void of space gradually gave way to the azure sky of the planet's atmosphere. Their destination was not far from the capital city, and Cera's landing path was a long one, allowing for a shallower, less-arduous atmospheric entry angle that caused them to circumnavigate the globe in the process.

  In the distance were the spires of the city, and the impressive space elevator towering above it, while below massive fields of crops of varying color, mostly yellow, gold and green, were set against the ground in ordered shapes of circles and squares. Farmhouses and buildings were dots that became progressively larger. With their speed slowing, everyone got a look at a flock of four-winged avians of brilliant sapphire and ruby plumage, their bright orange beaks shaped like wicked talons below pearl-like twin eyes. The creatures streaked across the bridge viewer without Cera needing to adjust her landing course.

  Said course brought them to a particular property that was larger than the others. Fields of bushes in ordered rows were tended by indistinct figures. Toward one end of the property, a massive landing pad was empty and available. As the ship turned, Henry noted stacks of crates were already there and ready for loading. More were likely in the tall blue structure nearby.

  Cera set them down gently and on the nose. "Well, that was quite a sight," she said in her usual lilt. "It's not often you get t' see a space elevator that new. The planetary council must be rollin' in cash."

  "It might be for show more than anything," Henry noted. "Or the Jalm'tar might rely on really big cargo-carriers. And speaking of cargo…"

  Yanik stood. "I will be ready in the hold." His tone conveyed the meaning Henry wanted to hear.

  Henry nodded acknowledgment. He followed Yanik off of the bridge. At the front starboard hold, he found Vidia, Felix, and Brigitte ready, all clad in work jumpsuits to help with the cargo-hauling while he was in his brown spacer's jacket, gray shirt, and pants.

  At a press of a button, the inner airlock door for the hold slid open, during which the system tested the external atmosphere. Once it was confirmed breathable, the outer door opened as well, and the ship extended a ramp the remaining two or so meters to the pad.

  Several stacks of crates with cooling units attached were waiting, more being brought out even now. The aliens handling them were short, stocky bipeds in dark beige coveralls, none over a meter and a half in height. Each had four thick arms that ended in a hand with three fingers and a thumb.

  The one alien who did not look hard at work was a thinner creature. He—presumably a “he”—was two meters tall, wearing an ornate suit of blue shades with black, and an insignia that looked like a trisected pyramid inside of a square was displayed on his upper right chest. Henry recognized the alien as a Jalm'tar, given the horn-like crests above the hairless brown head. The neon pink-toned eyes were larger than on humans, with blue irises, and the nasal structure was a flat group of five holes set between the eyes and mouth. The hands had only four digits, with shaved talon nails closer to a Saurian than a Human in appearance.

  Standing beside the alien was the only Human, a slim woman of dark brown coloration. A red dot on her forehead, a bindi, marked her a practicing Hindu, and she was clad in a black business suit that incorporated a gray sari and head shawl into its design. Several traveling bags were piled beside her. She bowed slightly with hands pressed together at the palms, fingers up, a gesture Henry recognized as offering Namaste as a greeting. "Greetings, Captain Henry," she said in a pleasant accent. He thought it sounded like the English pronounced on New Kerala. "I am Reva Sharma, representative on Yan'katar for Lou Shipping. This is His Excellence Hris Tashan sep Hrik'ma, the Imperial Representative of His Imperial Majesty Hemtan, the Great Emperor of Jalm'kis."

  Henry forced himself not to roll his eyes at the flowery speech. Diplomacy was diplomacy, after all. "Your Excellency, Captain James Henry, captain and owner of the independent vessel Shadow Wolf out of Darien," he answered. "And greetings to you, Miss Sharma."

  "Captain." The Jalm'tar's voice had a thick-tongued quality to it. Nevertheless, the smile seemed reasonable to Henry, so presumably, they had that in common. "Welcome to Yan'katar. Your cargo is prepared for Master Lou. Payment has already been issued. Are you ready to receive the shipment?"

  "We are."

  "The workers will see to it, then." Hrik'ma raised his chin for a moment before lowering it. "I have other affairs to attend to, but I am pleased to see competence in His Excellency Master Lou's choice of agents. May the Spirit of Fortitude see you safely to your destination." With that, he turned and departed.

  Henry looked back to the others and nodded. They came out with anti-gravity lifters. Wi
th practiced efficiency, they moved to the stacked crates, where a press of a key widened the arms of their lifts to embrace the boxes. He walked up and checked the seals on the containers in the stack Vidia was about to lift. Each was intact, and the digital bill of lading attached measured the contents as nearly 100 kilograms of pireem herbs. He gestured to Vidia, who triggered the lift to generate the graviton field that would lift the stack. With some effort, Vidia brought the crate into motion. Nearby, Brigitte and Felix were repeating the same – checking seals, checking the bill of lading, moving the contents into the hold – while he and Sharma watched the short aliens prepare the next section of the shipment. "Captain, please join me," she said in a soft, hurried tone. She gestured toward the Shadow Wolf and Henry immediately led her into it.

  He led Sharma to his office and shut the door. "What can I do for you?" Her body language relaxed slightly, but she still appeared worried. "Is there a problem?"

  "A possible one," Sharma said. "There are those on the Council who are critical of His Excellency’s deal with Mister Lou," Sharma said delicately. "And given the nature of this region, they would have connections that might profit from their discontent."

  "You think they'll sic pirates on us."

  "I am worried they will, yes," Sharma said.

  He refused to let himself sigh. His gut feeling that Lou's "simple job" would not be so simple had been spot on. "What about you? Are you safe?"

  "I believe so. To strike at me directly would be an insult to the Consul, and those responsible would face the Jalm'tar Empire's full fury. No, they will leave me alone. You are the one they will target. This shipment is critical for the company. We have contracts already signed with desperate worlds. The war has cut into the availability of medical supplies."

  "I'm aware."

  "The herbs have natural biochemical properties that resist infection and improve healing. Properly processed, they can replace some medical treatments that are export-controlled in the Coalition."

  "And make Lou an even richer man," Henry noted.

  "As sole provider? Yes. But the Jalm'tar will only permit him that if he can prove himself capable of ensuring successful shipments."

  "I got the gist of that before." He nodded. "We'll get him this shipment."

  Sharma didn't seem as accepting of the assurance as he intended. "I trust you'll be careful." When he looked at her with irritation, she added, "I researched you when Mister Lou told me you were coming. The Laffey Incident… well, it was some time ago, and you were younger… I imagine it changed you for the better."

  Henry's expression went stone cold. "I suppose it could have," he said icily. "It certainly left its mark on me."

  Halsey Station

  Chesapeake System, Terran Coalition

  20 May 2546

  * * *

  The court-martial proceeding felt like a bad dream. Shaw represented Henry, officially, and made all the right noises about how he felt remorse for trying to mislead the service, that he made dreadful mistakes and was ready to face his due punishment for them, and at the bench, the court-martial judges scowled and finally affirmed the deal. Thirty years suspended sentence, reduction in rank to major, dishonorable dismissal, and for prior service, a cashed-out pension.

  The ceremony was the next day.

  Flusser Square was a wide-open area linking the station's civilian, military, and transport sections. Arrivals came through the Square on their way on or off the station, and the designers for Halsey Station—aware that they were to be one of the premier officer training schools for the CDF—gave it the look of a courtyard, with tiled flooring and well-kept hedges, while at center, a square with four liquid crystal displays, one for each direction, showed directory information for the station.

  For the moment, the section adjoining the military and transport sides was a wall of blue and green, with uniformed personnel from all service branches lined up to watch. Colonel Serrano waited at the far end, nearest the transport entrance, and MPs flanked him and stood in a spread out line to where two of their number escorted Henry up. He was in his dress uniform, with its brilliant epaulets, the commendations he’d earned and insignia all in place, and the ceremonial officer's sword in the scabbard attached to his belt. He glanced around and noted that Hale, Xu, Renner, and Mueller were present, as were Chief Anwar and several other personnel from the Laffey brought to testify in his court-martial. To one end, flanked by his staff officers, General Erhart watched coolly and impassively. He inclined his head slightly at noticing Henry's gaze.

  A military drummer started playing a slow, repetitive march. Serrano approached Henry with a stern expression. Henry stood at attention before him and refused to lower his eyes, knowing what was coming next. "James Alfred Henry, by order of the Court-Martial of May 19th, 2546, you are hereby dismissed from service for your crimes." Serrano viciously pulled the Lt. Colonel insignia from Henry's lapel, tearing the uniform material a little. He started ripping the service ribbons and commendations from Henry's chest next, while the drums continued their steady, low rhythm. "Your conduct has brought disgrace upon your name and upon the service which you swore to honor." After tearing the last of the ribbons away, he put his hands to Henry's shoulders. He gripped the epaulets and, with a fierce application of strength, tore them from the uniform with great violence, leaving frayed threads to mark their removal. Next, Henry's officer's cover was knocked from his head. Finally, he pulled the ceremonial sword from Henry's scabbard and broke it over his knee. The blade – never a dangerous one anyway; they were not sharp—made a sharp clatter as its two halves hit the ground beside the pile of his ribbons, rank insignia, and his torn epaulets. "In the name of the Coalition Defense Force, and the people they are sworn to protect, you are hereby stripped of all connection to the CDF. You are forever degraded in our hearts and our memories. Leave our sight and do not return."

  Serrano stepped aside. As the drummer kept playing, Henry was escorted into the exit leading to the transport terminals. A civilian liner was waiting, his property already on board, for his departure from the station. For a moment, he felt a small impulse to look back to see if Hale and the others had any reaction to give, to see what was going on, but he stopped himself. There was no point in looking back.

  That life, his life, was over, and the distant gateway to the terminals beckoned him to the uncertain future he now faced.

  Shadow Wolf

  Pireem Farm and Processing Facility, Yan'katar

  Katar System, Independent Space

  17 April 2559

  * * *

  The look on Sharma's face told Henry she recognized she’d insulted him. "I have touched a nerve."

  He kept his expression stone-cold. "A lot of people judge me for the Laffey. You're not the first, Ms. Sharma, and you'll likely not be the last." As he spoke, it occurred to him that there was little risk in telling the truth out here, a month from the nearest Coalition-aligned star system. But he aimed to return home to Tylerville at some point, and besides that, he was never going to jeopardize Hale and the others on even remote chances. So he kept his peace.

  "Nevertheless, I was perhaps unkind to speak of it in this way," she conceded. She checked her chronometer. "Shall we check the status of your loading operation?"

  "Certainly," he said, standing up from his desk and letting some warmth back into his voice. He walked past her and led the way to the holds. Several piles of crates were already onboard. Piper was now with the others, helping to move the loads, while Oskar was monitoring their seals to ensure the biological contents were being properly preserved. Yanik nodded to him as he walked past with Sharma. "You have a way home?"

  "They have helicars here as well," Sharma said. "Not as many, so the skies are nice and clear. Actually, outside of the capital, there aren't even any traffic lanes."

  Henry nodded. Not every world was like that back in the core of Human-settled Sagittarius. "That sounds like it could appeal."

  Sharma nodded. A small
grin came to her face. "It is quite…"

  A yellow flash briefly shot through Henry's vision, with a surge of heat as if he were near a fire. Sharma let out a strangled cry and flew backward onto the deck of the hold.

  He noticed this in the back of his mind, as the rest of him was occupied with a trained reaction. "Shooter!" he shouted as he jumped. He hit the deck and rolled with the impact, allowing him to get to the side of the hold opening and the protective cover there.

  As he did so, the others went right for cover behind various crates. One by one, they reached for their belts and pulled out weapons. Felix had a CDF-issue pulse pistol he'd failed to return upon his resignation. Vidia drew out a silver and blue xaser pistol, Brigitte a brown and red plasma blaster, and Piper a Burleigh & Armstrong Mark IX charged particle pistol, with stylized faux-wood handle and ebony-black body. Oskar had his old League-issued particle pistol.

  Henry drew his pistol. The Danfield-Colt CP-2520 was a pre-war model charged particle pistol manufactured on his home planet New Virginia. The rounded charge chamber behind the barrel gave it a similar profile to an old chemical-propellant round 19th Century revolver. He leaned around the corner of the hold opening to try and get a visual on their attackers. The angle of his view gave him the sight of a figure crouched near one of the loader vehicles that the farm made use of. He raised his weapon and fired. White-hot blue light fired from his gun and struck the vehicle, only slightly off target. He watched the weapons fire of the others form a barrage of ruby-red (Brigitte), deep purple (Vidia), and two other blues (Felix and Piper). He glanced toward Oskar, who was not firing yet.

  He wasn't, of course, because the doctor was too busy trying to get Sharma to safety, his instincts as a doctor overriding any other consideration. Several more yellow bolts crashed into crates and the deck around him, sending up sparks and blackening what they hit. He almost yelled for Oskar to get back to cover, but a moment's consideration overrode that. His employer's loyalty to his agents and employees might not take it kindly if they let Sharma get killed.