by Eric Warren
“Oh, and that’s another thing,” Cas said. “You’re about one misstep away from being kicked off this ship.”
Box shut the show down and stared at him, his yellow eyes blinking rapidly. “He provoked me!”
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Ronde. He tried to trick me with a logic test. He thought it would make me malfunction,” Box protested, scooting forward. “But he’s never met a class 117 autonomous mining robot before; we’re not like a drone otherwise he’d know even the simplest of us are designed to ignore logic fallacies. I can’t believe he’d think I was so stupid I—”
“How do you know it wasn’t a mistake? Or a joke?” Cas asked, cutting off Box’s rant. Though Ronde had been ambivalent toward him as well from the very start. That first day on the bridge had been particularly uncomfortable.
“Ohhh, I know,” Box replied. “You were right. I do have to put up with a lot of bullshit here. And my bullshit meter is already this full.” He held up his hand above his head.
“Stick a dampener on whatever you’re doing because it got reported to the admiral. And now I have to get Evie to administer and sign off on an evaluation because of your behavior.” Cas gave up trying to get to the bed and made his way back toward the door.
“Evaluation for what?” Box asked.
“To make sure you’re not a threat to the crew.”
Box made a buzzing noise deep within, a sign of frustration. He leaned back against the wall again and turned on his device, resuming his net drama.
Cas placed his hands on his hips, staring at the tiny space a moment. Even though he didn’t have it on him, he still wore the holster under his jacket for the boomcannon. If this had been a Sargan ship all he’d have to do was go to the nearest officer, threaten their life and get them to move them to better quarters. But here in the Coalition it was a lot different. He had to make a complaint, fill out requisition forms, wait the pre-determined amount of time, et cetera, et cetera. The Sargans might have been a hotbed of crime and death, but it was a hell of a lot easier to get things done over there.
“I’ll be back,” he said, leaving through the doors. “I need to fix this.”
11
The hypervator doors opened on the brand-new bridge, giving Cas pause. He’d been so accustomed to the old bridge layout it took him a moment to adjust to this new one. Gone was the center 3-D display, replaced by a more traditional 2-D display on the far wall opposite the hypervator where the Master Systems Display used to be. The MSD had been relegated to the left side of the new display while the helm and navigation stations had been positioned closest to the viewscreen with the operations and tactical stations situated behind them at a slight angle. Closest to him was the bridge Engineering and the specialist stations, positioned furthest away from the screen as they were least crucial posts on the bridge. Technically both could be empty, and the bridge wouldn’t lose any functionality.
In the center of the room, right where the impressive 3-D display once stood were the captain and executive officer’s chairs, facing the new display. Cas glanced down, even the floors had been changed to reflect the changes, with the floorplates having been coated with new colors to help navigate the area.
Evie turned in her chair as he entered, giving him a supportive smile and returned her attention to the front.
“Prepare to depart,” Greene ordered. Each person focused on the work at their respective stations.
“Moorings have been cleared,” Zaal said. “Ready, Captain.”
“Lieutenant, at your leisure,” Greene said. Ronde nodded without glancing back and worked his controls. The view through the viewscreen rotated around, indicating Ronde was turning the ship in a counter-clockwise direction. As soon as the ship was straight again it drove forward to the giant hatch in the side of Starbase Eight. Cas couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing as the ship left its moorings and began its departure. In another life it would have been him on the bridge giving the orders, preparing to explore the great unknown.
“Approaching terminus,” Ensign River announced. She had taken over for Blackburn at the navigation station and Cas noticed her hands were cybernetic replacements. She also had a small augmentation close to her eye which was mostly obscured by her short, neon green hair. She seemed anxious in her new role. It was never easy taking over for a fallen comrade, especially when the death had happened right here on the bridge.
The opening approached, the starfield beyond nothing but white specks in a sea of night. As they passed through the force barrier to open space Cas couldn’t help but feel a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sad about leaving Eight, far from it. But rather it felt more like leaving another life behind, the one that he’d crafted for himself after being ejected from the Coalition. Here he was, on a Coalition ship for the second time in as many weeks, preparing to engage in a dangerous mission. He’d sworn he’d never find himself here again, but life never tended to go the way he’d expected.
“We’re clear, Captain,” Ronde said. He turned to look back and caught sight of Cas. Something flashed over his face, but it was gone before Cas could discern what it had been.
“Set course for Quaval,” Greene’s voice reflected the seriousness of the coordinates. Quaval was one of the few charted systems in Sil space, and the closest to their current position. It had been where Rutledge had first taken them on the Achlys. No doubt it was Greene’s plan to use Cas’s familiarity with the area to give them any kind of advantage. “Find the nearest undercurrent and send us through as soon as we’re within range.”
“Aye,” Ronde and River said in unison, sharing a brief glance.
Greene stood. “Now that we are underway I can reveal more about our mission, though this information is classified to officer-level clearance only. If I hear any of the crew talking about this, I will find who decided to leak the information.”
“There’s only one person on this bridge who’s a known traitor, start there,” Page said, staring at Cas.
Greene ignored him. “Our mission is to reach and make contact with the Sil.” There was a gasp in the room, though Cas couldn’t tell where it had originated. “Mr. Robeaux will be our point-man. He is the only human who has ever assisted the Sil in any way and Coalition Central thinks he is our way in.”
“But why?” Blohm asked. “What do we need the Sil for?”
“That’s classified,” Greene replied. “Just know that we wouldn’t be taking these steps were they not absolutely necessary.” Page scoffed. “We will be using the same route taken by the Achlys seven years ago,” Greene continued, “Hopefully that will give us a small advantage as we are—for lack of a better word—flying into their space blind. But the hope is they will recognize and appreciate what Mr. Robeaux did for them and agree to talk.”
“Captain, what is the endgame?” Zaal asked, his voice deep and heavy. “What does Coalition Central think we can accomplish?”
“We would like to broker a peace and opportunity to share information,” Greene said. “I can’t say more than that. But any situation in which we leave in one piece I will consider a win.”
The rest of the bridge officers exchanged looks, many of them turning to Cas then turning back to the Captain again. Evie remained stone-faced.
Greene turned to Evie. “Commander, the bridge is yours. Notify me of any problems.”
“Yes, Captain,” Evie said, staying in her seat. Greene made his way to his command room, motioning for Cas to follow him. Once inside Greene indicated Cas take a seat.
“I assume you didn’t ask me here to parade me in front of the bridge,” Cas said.
Greene raised his eyebrows. “No. But having you there helped. I’m not a fool; I know there is a lot of animosity toward you from this crew. There would be on any ship. But we don’t have the luxury of making the crew love you. We have a job to do and I am going to see it gets done, one way or another.” He paused. “Since it will take us between thirty and thirty-
five days to reach Sil space I wanted to get your thoughts on a strategy and spend some time going over it with you and the new negotiator. Have you met her yet?”
Cas shook his head. His last twelve hours had been spent shuffling from requisitions officer to requisitions officer, having little to no luck on procuring a new room. He couldn’t help but think someone was deliberately blocking him but he didn’t have the proof yet.
“When you get a chance, take some time to see her. She’s one of the best in the Coalition and will help guide you through this process. I expect by the time we reach Sil space you to be well versed in diplomatic protocol. We have one chance at this and can’t afford to screw it up.”
“I’m aware,” Cas said, an edge in his voice. He didn’t need anyone telling him how important his role here was. All this had taken its toll and he felt like he could sleep for about a week. But there was little chance of it with that tiny bed in his room.
Greene regarded him. “Are you alright, Robeaux? You look tired.”
“I’m just—it’s nothing. I’m not used to not being on my own ship.”
“Then see you get some rest. But I want you to be on the bridge for the second shift change each day. We’ll be passing through an area of space not often traversed and I want you to be caught up on everything we’re encountering. Consider yourself a temporary bridge crew member.”
Cas sat back, having not expected this. “Captain, I’m not sure I’m the person you want—”
“Are you trying to tell me how to run my own ship, Mr. Robeaux?” Greene asked, challenging him. “The fact is you need to be apprised on what is happening every day. Whether you want to or not. I had one last thing I wanted to discuss with you.” Cas glared at him, wondering how much worse this could get. “Have you considered wearing a Coalition uniform again?”
By his sides, Cas’s hands flexed into fists and back, clawing at the material of the chair. “I haven’t but I’ll…take it under advisement.”
“Excellent,” Greene replied. “I believe it would be helpful to present a united front to the Sil, show them we’re professional, organized, and serious.”
“Was there anything else?” he asked.
“No. But make sure you take the time to meet with Negotiator Laska, today if possible. Thirty days may seem like a long time, but we’ll be there before we know it.”
Cas nodded and stood, still fuming over the suggestion he wear a uniform. If he had any say in the matter he’d never put that piece of cloth on again. He’d come on their ship, he’d even help them in their negotiation. He’d sit on the bridge for a daily briefing for as long as the captain wanted him there. But one thing he would never do would be to put that uniform on again. Not after everything they had done to him. It represented something tainted and treacherous. And Cas wouldn’t have it.
He exited through the sliding doors without another look at Greene, doing his best to keep his cool. As he turned to head back toward the hypervator he locked eyes with Jorro Page, who wore a sinister sneer on his face. His lip was curled so Cas could even see his teeth underneath and yet it was twisted in a way that if he looked at it right it could resemble a smile. Cas narrowed his eyes and made a detour over to Evie.
“Do you have a second?” he asked. When he glanced back Page still hadn’t taken his eyes off him.
“Sure.” She tapped a button on her chair. “Lieutenant, notify me when we reach the undercurrent,” she said to Zaal, whose robed head bobbed in response. She stood and escorted Cas to the hypervator doors. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’ve been trying for the past twelve hours to find out who assigned me and Box a closet for quarters. But I keep getting the runaround. I can’t believe every available space on this ship is full.”
Evie furrowed her brow. “It’s not. We have plenty of rooms available. Did you say you were in a closet?”
“Up on seven. We’re in what seems to be a maintenance storage room.”
Evie glanced over her shoulder then back at Cas again. “I’ll take care of it. I think I know what’s going on.”
“It’s Page, isn’t it?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you later. But you might wish you still had your old commission before this mission is over,” she said, frustration in her voice.
“The admiral offered, but I refused,” he said. He wanted to get off the bridge, get back down to his “quarters”. Now that he’d hopefully taken care of his housing problem he didn’t need to be here anymore.
“What?” she said. “Why? You would have been the third-highest ranked person on this ship if you had.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” he replied. “I’m not the same person I was when I earned that rank. A lot has happened since then. Plus, I would have had to wear—” He gestured to her uniform.
“You don’t want to take a downgrade, Captain.” She smirked. “Who would want to go back to being a commander after running his own ship for so long?”
He forced a smile. “Yeah. Thanks for your help on the room, I’m going to pack what little we unpacked.”
“You got it. Lunch tomorrow?” she asked.
The weight on his back seemed to lift briefly. As if a pulley had raised it up slightly so he wasn’t holding so much all at once. “Sounds great.”
She nodded then returned to her station. “Mr. Zaal, how close?” she asked as the hypervator doors opened for Cas.
“Another hundred-thousand kilometers,” he replied in that heavy voice of his. Cas sighed. As the doors closed, he caught one last look at Page who appeared to be laughing to himself.
12
“Former Commander Robeaux, please report to meeting room Epsilon immediately,” Cas’s comm chirped. It happened to come on as he passed another crewmember in the hallway who glanced over at him with disgust. He needed to change his settings, so it only notified him of a comm and didn’t blurt it out for everyone around him to hear.
Meeting room Epsilon? What could be down there? The voice had been a woman’s, but it had been shrill and serious.
“Former Commander, do you read me?” the comm chirped again.
Cas grabbed it and tapped it. “This is Robeaux,” he said. “Who is this?”
“Negotiator Laska. Captain Greene notified me you were ready to meet. I would like to begin as soon as possible.” From the sound of it she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, but also thought a lot of herself. What if he was in the middle of a job, or a shower? It was best to get this over with.
“Fine. I’ll be there momentarily,” Cas replied.
The comm chirped again. “And make sure you bring a better attitude than the one I’m hearing. I’m not about to waste my time on someone who will not take these negotiations seriously.”
There won’t be any negotiations at all if we’re not careful.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Cas replied, turning off his comm. Every time the stupid thing beeped now it sent a shock of anxiety through his system. He wasn’t used to having all these people around who could contact him. He’d hoped falling back into his old routines would be easy; making jokes with the crew, performing his daily duties. A structured routine. But it hadn’t been like that at all. He was miserable and he knew it. Before, when he’d still had his ship and the promise of leaving the Coalition forever he’d been much more hopeful. Now everything seemed like it was falling apart.
He took the closest hypervator down to meeting room Epsilon, expecting to meet a someone who reminded him of his professors back at the academy. There had been one, Professor Arxa—xenobiology. She’d been the strictest person he’d ever met, requiring the students to be perfect in their knowledge of alien species, their traits, and their histories. She had said the entire back of the Coalition was made up of each person understanding where someone else came from, even if they didn’t come from the same planet as you. Cas had hated her with a passion, but she was the professor he remembered the clearest, and some of her lessons had even helped him ba
ck when he’d been in the Sargan Commonwealth. It turned out when you knew a little bit about a person’s planetary history they were much more likely to buy you a couple more rounds rather than punch your face in.
The door to the room slid open revealing what Cas thought at first was a child. But as he stood in the doorway, he realized she was in fact a full-grown person, she happened to be a little over a meter tall. Her dark black hair was swept back and pinned to her head, the back of it done up in an ornate, but classy bun. Her dark eyes seemed to pierce his very soul and she held a long, black stick of some sort, to Cas it looked to be made of a polymer carbonite? He couldn’t be sure.
“Former Commander Robeaux, I presume,” she announced, somehow managing to look down on him despite the fact he was a good half meter taller than her.
He stuck out his hand awkwardly as he entered, trying his best not to be rude. “Yes, and you must be—”
SMACK!
Cas retracted his hand, the back of it welting up with a red mark. He hadn’t even seen her move the stick. “Goddammit! Ow!” he yelled.
“You are not to initiate physical contact with any being without first gaining their consent. Improper physical relations led to the twelve years war between the Maxians and the Ornagothi. We will not be making the same mistake in this classroom.”
“Classroom?” Cas asked. He glanced around. There was one small chair with a desk facing a larger desk at the end of the room. And on the far wall an interactive board. “Am I…going to school?”
SMACK!
“Dammit, stop hitting me!”
“We will not be speaking out of turn in this classroom. Improper adherence to verbal contracts caused a three-fold rift in the Lek-Makal Empire, leading to two hundred years of famine for its people. We do not want to be unleashing any plagues in here, do we, Former Commander?”
Cas held his hand, rubbing the back of it, afraid to respond or move. She was quick as a whip with that thing. He had an urge to tackle her and wrench it from her grasp. She was small, what were the odds he’d get it before she beat him to death?