She knew nothing now. Her location. The status of the war. Whether the war even waged still. Her place in any of it.
Tirseer soaked in Ayala’s despair, seeping from the former admiral like waste from a cracked sewer pipe. She scrolled through the tab with feigned leisure…until even Tirseer’s stone expression showed the slightest sign of microfractures.
She laid the tab flat and spun it around for Ayala to see. Ayala, for all her exhaustion and waning will, refused to look at it. She was mostly a creature of spite now. No honor, no lofty goal to fight for other than making Tirseer eat dirt.
“Though I appreciate the time out of my cell,” Ayala said, “I think I’d rather watch the slime roll down my wall than look at anything you have to show me.”
Tirseer nudged the tab closer.
The muscles in Ayala’s neck burned. They tired of holding her head so high.
“We’ve discussed much during my visits,” Tirseer said. “I’ve learned all I need to about the Navy’s internal politics and operations, ship deployments, the status of fringe groups. I’m not here to discuss those. There’s something else I want to talk about.” The weight in her voice pulled Ayala’s chin down.
The image on the tab was a cold knife in Ayala’s gut.
“I want to talk about the Void.”
2
Fair winds and following seas.
The words were carved into the wall above his door, so they were the last thing he saw before stepping out of his cabin and into his ship. The last thing he read before putting on the mantle of captain.
A reminder.
The door slid open and the charged air of the corridor hit him in the face. His quarters, all the crew’s quarters, were on the bottom deck along with engineering. The charge made his head swim for a second. He marched through the daze, undeterred. It had been almost debilitating when he first acquired the ship. The first month was spent doubled over with nausea. He nearly sold the ship or gutted it and rearranged the layout, but his engineer assured him there would be no long-term health effects.
Speaking of…
“Mornin’, Captain.” Alenna Byrne clapped Hepzah on the back as she passed. She had to squeeze between him and the wall to fit through the narrow corridor.
Hep would have pulled away if there was space. He didn’t welcome the touch, but that was no fault of Byrne’s. He shirked away from most physical contact. She had no such compulsion. Quite the opposite.
“Engine’s running like a lubed-up dream,” she said. “Give ya the full report at morning brief.”
Byrne was the first crewmember Hep had recruited after acquiring the Fair Wind. For months, he was the only member of the crew, pacing its empty halls by himself, quietly contemplating next steps, charting his course.
He now thought fondly of those times.
He shook his head, trying to knock those thoughts aside. He didn’t dislike the bustle of the Fair Wind. After so many long months of gathering his crew and setting his ship to be as close as possible to the vision he held in his mind, it felt like home. Like the home he never had. The home he wished all the dirty pirate ships he bounced to and from would have been. But he did sometimes miss the solitude afforded by being a deckhand.
He didn’t want to feel ungrateful. He had it. Everything he wanted. He closed his eyes and saw the words in his mind.
Fair winds and following seas.
The rest of the crew would soon emerge from their bunks. Hep walked as briskly as he could without breaking into a run down the corridor to the lift.
The Fair Wind was a small clipper. Fast and maneuverable, it was the perfect type of vessel for traders and transporters. Hep knew he wanted a ship that would sell itself. He wasn’t a people person, the kind of smooth talker that could convince a potential client to hire him if they had any reservation at all. That was…well, not him.
When a client said, “There’s a hundred traders bidding for this job. Why would I hire you over any of them?” Hep wanted to point to his ship as answer.
It would navigate safely and quickly though asteroid fields, mine fields, junk fields, and warzones without risking the cargo. And it would be delivered on time. Always on time.
He didn’t want a warship.
Still, he wasn’t naïve. He knew that with the breakout of the war, he’d need the ability to defend himself. The Fair Wind had defensive and offensive capabilities—enough to survive an engagement with the Navy or the Byers or pirates. Survival was the objective. Not destruction.
The lift was cramped and empty, which he welcomed. It felt comforting. It jumped up to the only other level of the small ship, and then shifted to the slide. It clipped along fast enough that Hep felt his guts pressed against his back. In all, it was a short trip from his cabin to the command center of the ship.
The lift door opened directly onto the bridge—a small command center with enough space for only those needed to run the ship, five people at most.
Byrne was already at her post running diagnostics on the ship, as Hep knew she would be. As chief engineer, she was thorough and wholly dedicated. “Morning, Cap’. Veer off for a trip to the head on your way? I’m half done with my morning checks already.” As a person, she was brusque and sometimes offensive. But her engineering skills outweighed any character flaws.
Hep wasn’t surprised to see Byrne at her station. She seemed to take pleasure in being the first to report for duty. She at least enjoyed reporting before Hep. It was the other officer on deck that surprised him: his first officer.
“Sigurd. You’re here early.”
Sig didn’t look up from the local scanners. “Something I wanted to check on.” It came out mostly as a grunt with a little voice underneath.
When Sig did not elaborate, Hep prompted some explanation. “Care to expand a little?”
Sig scratched his chin, head still down, looking like he hoped that if he stared at the map hard enough, he could transport himself to one of the little blips. “Faint radio signature. Akari picked it up last night. Said it was cutting in and out.”
“Anything to worry over?”
Using his thumb and forefinger like a pincer, Hep zoomed in on the location of the signature. “The signature cut out completely an hour ago. Last came from near this location. No SOS. No personal message. Probably just a satellite on the fritz, sending out the signal that it needs repair.”
Hep raised the list of known operators in the sector. They were sailing through disputed territory, though the Byers Clan would likely take it soon enough. They had already tipped the scales in their favor, but independent operators like Hep still worked the area. They posted satellites to boost their comm signals. One of the most common contracts the Fair Wind picked up was collecting derelict satellites for scrap merchants.
“The Cannery Crew, maybe?” Hep said, scanning the list.
Sig shook his head. “They bugged out a couple days ago. After Byers split that Navy cruiser in two. They saw the winds change, and they’re not well-liked by the Byers.”
Hep shrugged. “Do your best to identify it, but don’t waste too much time doing it.”
Sig nodded but didn’t answer verbally.
“I’ll help him with it,” Akari said as she entered the bridge. Akari Morris seemed both the most qualified to be on the ship and the most out of place. She came from a family of sailors. Her father was an officer in the United Navy, and her mother had been a captain in the fleet of a small planet along the edges of the Deep Black before they were co-opted. Akari was more at home on a ship than she was on any planet, but her Navy upbringing sometimes clashed with her current setting.
“Rendezvous in the comm lab after the briefing,” Akari said to Sig.
“Was hoping to eat breakfast first.”
Akari didn’t respond, but Sig knew what she was thinking. Mission critical operations take priority over all personal matters, including eating. It wasn’t officially Navy protocol, just one of those sayings that got drilled into you
during your first tour.
“But I guess I could eat in the comm lab.” He looked away from Akari, not wanting to see her cringe at the thought of crumbs falling on her console.
Hep browsed through the agenda that Alenna had prepared. “Anything else?”
Items turned red and then faded away as Alenna addressed them. Billing completed for the previous cycle. New work orders issued. Threat assessment for the sector.
“Byers will push the Navy out by the end of this billing cycle.” She raised her calendar on the monitor. The final day of the cycle was highlighted in yellow. Two weeks away. “Navy ship movements show that they’re well aware how screwed they are. They’re pulling out without much fuss. I don’t anticipate hostility on their way out.”
Hep nodded. “Then we should follow suit. Wrap up any loose ends then plot our course for the next cycle. Work up an updated job roster.”
“On it, Cap’,” Alenna said with an exaggerated salute.
The crew split, each taking to their tasks.
Hep sat in his captain’s chair in the center of the bridge. It still felt odd to him, the leather against the skin of his forearms, the controls at his fingertips. The authority.
The rest of the morning passed routinely. They collected two satellites, worked up a work plan for their final days in the sector, and plotted their next steps after pulling out. Quiet. Easy. Two things Hep had also failed to grow used to. He hated admitting it to himself after everything, but he was growing tired of it—the quiet. He couldn’t remember wanting anything other than a normal life since he was left alone on the street. He finally had it. And it was boring.
The routine was like a safety blanket at first. Now it was like a full set of clothes as he swam, pulling him down to the bottom of the lake.
He was about to turn over control of the bridge to the computer as Sig approached, with that stoic look he’d been wearing these last few months. He said nothing, but it was a different silence than he’d recently taken to. It felt full of something other than despair.
“You have something for me, Chief?” Hep said. “Or were you just looking to stand uncomfortably close?”
Sigurd cleared his throat. “Akari analyzed the radio signal. She thinks she determined the source.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
Sig cleared his throat again. It sounded like he was scraping a garden rake along a paved road. “I’ve never had reason to question Akari. Even now her analysis looks sound. I don’t see where it could have gone wrong.”
“But you seem determined to conclude that it has.”
“Her process is solid. It’s the conclusion that I’m having trouble with. I don’t see how it’s possible.” He scrolled through his tablet, double-checking the findings again as though they might have changed since checking them just seconds earlier. “It was an SOS. Not a satellite. A ship.”
“But it went dead. Was it shut down manually?” Hep assumed it had to have been. The lifecycle of a ship’s SOS system was years unless it suffered catastrophic damage.
Sig shrugged, confusing Hep. It wasn’t exactly an insignificant detail.
Irritation crept into Hep’s voice. “Well, is it something we need to respond to or not? Are there sailors dying out there as I wait for you to finish your report?”
Sig stared intently at his tablet, eyes unfocused, like he was looking at it only to keep from looking at Hep.
“For the love of the void, Sig, what the hell is—”
“It’s the Black Hole. The SOS is coming from the Black Hole.”
3
The glare of the triple star cluster reflecting off the expeditionary fleet was blinding. Mao squinted into it, trying to distinguish the shape of one ship from the next, but it all seemed like one blob of light. The sensors detected three ships where his eyes could not. The small force that Taliesin Mao was charged with leading into the Inferni Cluster. He was to chart the cluster and determine its potential value to the United Systems.
So that it could be taken and used for the war effort.
His stomach churned.
“Incoming from the Forager, sir,” Graeme said.
“On screen.”
Captain Horne was a haggard portrait of the man he’d been just a month ago. His eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by purple, sagging skin. His words lacked the clarity and preciseness expected of a captain. But his state was not uncommon among the expeditionary fleet. Nor the Navy overall.
“Nothing,” Horne said, his head tilting to the side like he might fall asleep. “The cluster is screwing with our sensors. Even from this far in, we can’t get clear readings.” The Forager was deeper into the cluster than any ship had ever ventured. It was a small ship, built for exploration and equipped with radiation shields. Even with its protections, however, no ship could stay inside a cluster of stars for long.
“Then pull out,” Mao ordered. “We’ll regroup and determine our next steps.”
Another face appeared onscreen. “I believe I’ll make that determination.” Calibor’s intense stare was an unwelcome—but not unexpected—sight. “As the ranking captain on this expedition.”
He took every opportunity to remind the others, especially Mao, that he was the ranking captain. He was given command of the Illuminate after Jeska was promoted to a command position in Central. A position made available by the absence of Shay Ayala. Jeska then saw fit to promote her former XO to force commander for this mission. “He was a natural fit,” Jeska said.
“Bullshit,” Delphyne had said when she heard the news. “He’s a grunt. You’ve had more experience in the Deep Black than three Calibors.”
“But no more experience as a captain,” Mao answered.
“Horne or Bigby, then,” Delphyne said. “Both Deep Black captains and both a better choice by leagues. This is a clear example of favoritism.”
“I’ve never known Captain Jeska to be anything other than fair.” Mao had known her a long time. He liked her despite her jagged edges. He had experience serving under people with jagged edges.
He believed Calibor’s appointment came from higher up than Jeska. And there were only a handful of people above her. What concerned Mao was the logic behind the appointment. Delphyne was right—Calibor was a grunt. A man much more suited to leading away missions than expeditionary forces. So, if those in charge chose him over a field of vastly more qualified candidates, there must be a reason.
The suspicion led to a deep distrust of the man. Added to the general dislike.
“Run your scans one more time,” Calibor ordered Horne. “Then rendezvous with the rest of us at the edge of the cluster.”
Horne appeared to sigh, though it could have just been exhaustion. “Aye, sir.”
Both Horne and Calibor disappeared.
Delphyne scoffed. “Jackass.”
“I’ll remind you to comport yourself like an officer of the United Navy while serving as such aboard my ship, XO Delphyne.” It was intended as a reprimand but lacked the fury. Mao fell into his captain’s chair. The chair he’d long dreamed of occupying. Now that he’d changed his position among the Royal Blue’s crew, he wished only to change the position of the universe around him.
“I’m not so sure I know how an officer of the United Navy should conduct herself anymore,” Delphyne retorted.
Mao would have ignored her insolence had it not drawn the attention of the bridge crew. “If you choose to continue conducting yourself as you have been, then I suggest you brush up on the comportment of officers undergoing court-martial.”
Delphyne bristled. Several crew members stifled laughter.
A jolt of anxiety shot through Mao’s body, a quick flash of lightning that lit a familiar fear. He shot out of his chair and marched off the bridge. “XO, with me.”
Mao stormed off the bridge and took his first left, not stopping until he entered the briefing room. He turned on his heel so abruptly that Delphyne nearly crashed into him.
He studied her
. Her shoulders slouched forward. Her chin hung low. Her eyes were dulled of interest, lids heavy with the apathy of adolescence. Her attitude enraged him. To have a member of his crew act so inappropriately. But worse, she was the best of them. She could captain her own ship in three years. She could be admiral in a decade more. And she was throwing it away. For sentiment.
“He’s gone.”
Delphyne’s drowsy eyes shot open. “Who’s that?”
“Whoever it is that’s making you act like a lovesick child.” He knew the comment was uncalled for as soon as it left his mouth.
Delphyne tensed, her once-sleepy eyes now fiery with anger. “I don’t care if you are my captain, Mao, you say something like that to me again and I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Anissa? Hit me? Challenge me to a duel? Commit some other act of treason? Like it or not, you are still an officer in the United Navy, and there are regulations that must be followed. Or you will face consequences.”
Delphyne brushed the threat aside like it was a fly in her face. “Does any of that matter anymore? Does any of it mean anything?”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
She laughed. It was filled with pity, like laughing at a child desperately clinging to childhood myths. “Because of Ore Town.”
The name was like a drill in Mao’s ear. A piercing sting punching into his brain. When pulled free, everything he’d kept inside came leaking out. Every ounce of composure. But he retained some self-control and kept from screaming in his XO’s face. Though he did not hide the fact that he wanted to.
A self-satisfied smile crept across Delphyne’s face followed quickly by guilt at feeling pleasure in Mao’s uncharacteristic anger.
“That place is a crater.” Mao swallowed the rage-flavored lump in his throat.
“That crater changed everything.”
The Deep Black Space Opera Boxed Set Page 39