by Rob Dearsley
It had been the two of them against the universe. She’d always been there for him, even after he’d run off rather than do his service. They’d looked out for each other. But in the end, he’d failed her, and now she was gone.
He took a ragged breath, tears springing to his eyes.
“Oh, dear.” His mother led him to a soft chair opposite the fire.
“What’s up, boy?” his dad asked from the doorway.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kept his head down, his voice low. He didn’t want to look at them. He couldn’t and do what he’d come here to do. “It’s all my fault. I was an idiot and now… Stars, if I could take it back. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” His mother moved to console him, trying to turn his head to face her. He didn’t deserve it.
“Yes, it is,” he said, suddenly rising from the chair and moving to look out the window. The view was like something from a postcard. You could see all the way down to the coast, where a thunderhead rolled in from the southern ocean.
Just breathe, he told himself. Now do it fast, like ripping off a plaster. Just tell them. Whatever their reaction, it couldn’t possibly worse than what he was doing to himself.
That last voice sounded like Arland, another failure on his conscience.
“It’s Sam,” he began. His mother’s sharp intake of breath told him she knew what was coming, but he’d started now, the floodgates were open and he couldn’t stop until it was all out. “It was my fault. We found the Terran ships, heck we probably woke them up. We got there just in time – Gypsum. I tried to save her. We were so close, but, damn it, I should have been faster. Shouldn’t have listened to those damn politicians.” He turned to face them. His mother buried herself in Dad’s arms, Dad glaring at him. “She fell.” He clamped his hand over another sob as the memory of her slipping through his fingers filled his senses. “I should have saved her. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”
His parents held each other. His mother cried openly, while his dad stayed still and quiet as stone, radiating anger and grief. Dannage slumped down beneath the window, his head in his hands, sobbing. For Sam, for Arland, Hale, for all of them.
◊◊
A gurney rolled past, one of the medics straddling its occupant, her back rising rhythmically as she performed CPR.
Hale pressed herself back against the wall, trying to become as invisible as possible. Fat chance of that. She wished she were back on the Heimdall, among friends.
Refugees crowded the medical ship’s hangar deck. Ranks and ranks of cots had been set out across the bay, but casualties already spilt over onto the floor. The shuttle had dumped them here with some excuse about picking up Commander Harris.
It wasn’t the first time she’d wished she could just go home.
“Why are you so tall?” A child sidled over to Hale.
“I’m not tall. It’s you lot that are short.” Hale crouched down to the boy’s level.
The boy chortled. “You’re funny.”
Hale glanced up to see a pot-bellied man waddling toward her. You’d never see anyone like that in the Imperium. It wouldn’t be allowed. How could modern humans stand such a waste?
“What are you doing with my boy?” the man demanded.
“Nothing, we were just talking.” Hale stayed kneeling, hoping the man wouldn’t notice her size.
“Talking?” The man spat. “Come here, boy.”
“I just wanted to know why she’s so tall,” the boy protested as his father grabbed him roughly.
The man eyed Hale. “You’re not with the SDF.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Boy’s right, you’re a big lass. Where’d you come from?”
Hale’s breath caught. She only knew a handful of modern systems from the star charts she’d seen on the Folly. “Ossenite.”
The man’s brow knitted. “Not likely. Not unless you’re a lot older than you look.”
Hale frowned back, not understanding.
“Accident with a terraforming plant. System hasn’t been habitable for near on fifty years, and you don’t look more ‘an your thirties. Why lie? Come on, where are you from?”
A small group had gathered around them.
“Maybe she’s a Terran. I heard they were all giants,” someone piped up.
Hale froze, glancing around for her friends, an exit, some way out of this situation.
“Don’t be silly,” the big man said. “Come on, lass. Where are you from?”
Hale stood, looking around for Arland and Simon.
The man pulled his child protectively behind him. “You are?” His eyes widened.
Hale could hear the whispers of “she’s a Terran” ripple out through the crowded deck. The refugees turning to face her. Wonder, fright and more than a little anger flickered in their haunted eyes.
Maybe she deserved it. She was tired. Part of her still wished she died back on the Heimdall with Matt and her friends. Instead, she was stuck in this wretched future.
Yes, I’m an officer in the Terran Imperium. And you know what? I’m proud of it. She opened her mouth to say it.
An elderly woman pushed herself up. “Why?”
The question brought Hale up short. She didn’t know why any of this was happening. Why would the Imperium make ships like this? What happened to make them crazy?
“You did this,” a younger man yelled, advancing through the crowd, bringing a wave of white-hot anger with him. More people pushed forward.
In a flash, Arland was between Hale and the advancing refugees. “She’s done as much as anyone to fight the Terrans.”
“She’s one of them.”
Arland glared down the younger man. “She helped us. Helped you!”
Simon and a group of troopers from the Jean-Luke joined Arland, forming a wall between Hale and the refugees. Hale couldn’t help but wonder who they were protecting from whom.
The Marines started hustling Hale and her companions toward Commander Harris and the waiting shuttle. Hale’s eyes met the old woman’s, the spark of resolute fury held there resonated with Hale.
Hale pushed past the Marines. “I’m sorry. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake. I promise you, I’ve lost more than anyone-”
The old woman cut her off. “My son died defending Calcite.”
Hale deflated, her voice little more than a whisper. “Everyone I’ve ever known and loved is gone.”
◊◊
They were on the shuttle for less than ten minutes before Arland felt the familiar shift in gravity as they entered the Jean-Luke’s flight bay. Arland slipped from her harness and was on the ramp before it was fully open.
Her discoveries back on the moon had her excited. They were making actual progress. They had a target, somewhere to go next.
Her mother approached from around the Jean-Luke’s other shuttle. “I take it from your expression that you found something.”
“More than something.” Arland couldn’t help herself. “We found everything, the link between the Terrans and the Spooks.”
Her mother nodded. “We’ll discuss this in private.”
They trooped off to the captain’s office, Arland hardly able to contain herself. They had the Spooks now, and she was sure Pyrite would have everything else they needed.
Vaugh stood up as they entered the office. “What did you find?”
Arland glanced to Hale and Simon, they both stayed silent, waiting for her to start.
“There was a sensor-dampening field, like the one on Augite III. Inside we found records of a deep space mission. They met the Terrans ten years ago! They’ve known about it for years.” She paused, trying to restrain herself. She had to keep calm and stay focused if she wanted to convince her mother and Harris.
Vaughn cut in, his voice rising with excitement. “This ties in with the paperwork we found and proves the Spooks knew about the Terrans, were studying Terran technology.”
Arland jumped in
with, “And experimenting on humans, like Augite III.”
Her mother’s face hardened. “Is this just another attempt to justify what happened back then? Push the blame onto someone else?”
Damn. Arland had known as she’d said it, that bringing up the Augite III link would put her mother’s back up. But it was true this time. “That’s not what I’m doing. We were given first-hand information.”
Harris’s head snapped up. “First hand?”
Arland shrank back from Harris’s scrutinising gaze, suddenly unsure of herself. Would they believe her? Should she even tell them?
“What informant?” her mother asked.
It was Simon who finally broke the silence –leave it to the infantry to rush in. “Someone claiming to be Commander Maddix pointed us to Pyrite.”
The others pulled back. Arland and her mother locked gases, searching each other for some glimmer of thought or intent. Arland silently begged her mother to believe her.
Finally, her mother spoke. “Commander Maddix is dead.”
“I know.” Arland’s anger taking her, she pushed up, letting her chair clatter to the floor. “I was there, damn it. I, I—” I killed him.
“Shauna.” Her mother stood, reaching out to touch Arland’s hand. “I know you’re still hurting and want to lash out, but—”
“But nothing!” Arland pulled away. “Maddix was being experimented on, they had his brain hooked up to Stars-knows-what. When I— damn it. When I killed him, his mind uploaded into their computer.”
Her mother pulled back, frowning. “Wait, what?”
Arland had reached the end of her tether. She’d been beaten, bitten and shot over this whole knotted, screwed up mess and she’d had about enough of it. And of the looks she’d gotten after the court-martial, the concern, the pity – all the whispering that stopped when she entered a room. Like they knew what happened, like they knew her.
They knew nothing.
Back then, the crazy parts of the mission hadn’t even come out – they’d been redacted so hard they’d never see the light of day. Threats of incarceration, or worse, kept her from talking. To hells with it. Whatever happened next, she was going down swinging.
“It was a wetware lab. They were experimenting on Maddix, on his brain.” Arland blinked away tears. “Stars. He begged me to kill him.”
Vaughn leaned forward intently.
“The details of the Augite III mission are classified,” Harris said. “We have no way to verify this.”
“I can prove it.” Arland pulled the wetware unit from her pouch and slammed it down on the table. “The intel we’ve got says they’re working out of Pyrite. Get us there and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove it to everyone.”
Arland’s mother shook her head. “Stars, help me.”
“Sir, you can’t take the ship off on the word of a…” Harris trailed off under his captain’s glair.
“She’s still my daughter. And the physical evidence they have is enough for us to act on. If we can find a way to end the Terran War, we have to try.”
“Sir, I—”
“Commander, prepare the ship for departure.”
Vaughn turned the wetware chip over in his hands.
Fatigue fell over Arland and she sank to the floor next to her overturned chair. She’d done it, they were going to Pyrite.
◊◊
Dannage snapped awake, his breathing fast and shallow. His head slammed into the windowsill as he started upright. It had just been a dream. Stars, it had been years since he’d had a nightmare. He pushed himself up on the wall, wincing as the muscles in his neck and back knotted painfully.
He had no idea how long he’d been out. The last thing he remembered was his dad carrying his mother’s weeping form from the room and leaving Dannage to his grief. The next thing after that was running. He couldn’t remember much of the dream, apart from the fear and the need to escape.
His back screamed in protest as he stretched it out, through the window sunrise was turning the horizon pink. The storm had passed while he’d slept.
Dannage shucked his coat onto the arm of an easy chair and headed for the kitchen. His parents were normally early risers, but he wouldn’t blame them if they were still in bed after what had happened yesterday. He didn’t feel quite ready to face the world yet.
The smell of freshly ground coffee stopped him in his tracks.
“You’re up? Do you want a cup?” His mother’s words caught Dannage off guard and for a moment he stood there teetering on the boundary between light and shadow, thought and action. Unable to move or think past it.
Shaking off the feeling, he stepped into the pool of morning sunlight, feeling the soft warmth against his face.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Mornin’ Cap’n,” Luc said, sipping his own coffee. “Thanks for the coffee, ma’am.”
She gifted Luc a smile and passed Dannage a steaming cup. He held it for a time, enjoying the feeling of the heat leeching into his hands and the bitter scent of the fresh coffee rising from the mug. Finally, he took a sip, his eyes closing. Stars, it was divine. He hadn’t had fresh coffee in years.
His father’s voice interrupted the moment. “Son.”
Dannage turned, setting his cup down as his father descended the stairs. Judging by the bruising beneath his eyes, his father hadn’t slept much. The resentment still burned in there, like sullen coals, glaring out at Dannage from beneath bushy brows. “Still here then?”
Dannage nodded, staying still, keeping his eyes on his father. Not quite sure what was going to happen next, how his father was going to react.
Then the moment passed, as did his father, brushing and by into the kitchen. Dannage breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go. A scraping of chair legs on linoleum and Luc moved to follow him.
“Where are going now?” his father asked, without looking up.
“Don’t pester the boy,” his mother chided. But his father was right. He was listless, floating on the whims of fate, or worse, blundering blindly through the night. Stumbling from one disaster into the next.
◊◊
Later, Dannage and Luc found themselves in the converted attic room. When he’d been small it had been his and Sam’s playroom. A constant battleground between action figures and frilly dolls. Now, the attic was tidy, everything stacked in boxes along one wall. It left room for the large holotable that dominated the centre of the space. He walked over, waving it on.
The 3D screen sprang to life. Opposing armies, marked in red and blue, were scattered across a mountain pass, mid-battle. His father was presumably playing blue and had units working their way through the rocky crags to flank the opposition, leaving only a fraction of his force to hold the valley’s mouth. It was a sound tactic, troops rushing down into their flanks could cause chaos among the attackers and inflict heavy losses.
Dannage had played the game enough to know his father was going to lose.
All the enemy had to do was tighten its formation and keep going, and they'd break through. They’d take losses, but the bulk of the force would make it, as long they kept their momentum. They’d beeline for the target, the head of the valley, and that would be it. His father would be better off reinforcing his position where the valley narrowed, instead of spreading out trying to hit them piecemeal.
Just like the Terrans, he thought bitterly. If the SDF could rally their forces, throw everything they had at the Terrans at once, maybe they could hold out. But this was different from the holographic valley. The Terrans could go anywhere. As far as they knew, all they wanted was to kill humans, and, to use the military parlance, they were in a target-rich environment.
Yet they’d only attacked – he paused to think about it for a moment, counting in his head – maybe half a dozen systems. If all they wanted was to kill everyone, he was sure they could have overrun the human colonies by now. So, it begged the question: what was their game?
On a whim, he cleared game from the holotable a
nd brought up a map of colonised space. The first system he found was Feldspar. He tapped a control, highlighting it red against the blue of the map. That was where it all started.
“What you thinkin’?” Luc asked.
“Not sure yet.” He searched for the next system. It was harder than he’d figured to find locations on a real-world map; all he knew were the simplified highway maps. There it was. He marked Oceanite, Andesite, and Gypsum. They were spread out around Feldspar like they were just going after human colonies. But they weren’t all the closest systems to Feldspar. Gypsum definitely wasn’t.
They were spread out, but in a specific direction. There was something to the pattern than nagged at his mind, but he couldn’t quite reach it.
“Remember when you ejected that cargo module on the Curie,” Luc said, “and old man Crund sent us off in the skiff to find it again?”
Dannage smiled at the memory. But what did it have to do with…?
Of course, Dannage kicked himself for not seeing it. The Terrans were looking for something. But what?
Luc reached out and tapped Titanite, then Calcite, Limonite, and Granite. The recognisable pattern dissolved. For the Terrans to keep following the search pattern, they should have stayed much further galactic north than Titanite.
But then, the Terrans had followed them to Titanite. Or at least followed someone. The Spook flashed through Dannage’s mind, the Terrans talking through him. Could it be? Could they be what the Terrans had been looking for? He pushed the questions aside for the moment and looked at the second batch of attacks in a new light. If the Terrans had found what they were looking for, then the disparate forces that had left Feldspar were coming back together. But where?
Luc continued to highlight systems. “More attacks on the news. Refugees are flooding the nearby systems.”
Dannage frowned. A new pattern formed in front of him, lines converging on a mostly empty region of space.