“Done with it?” Admiral Conway’s familiar voice pulled him back to the present.
He turned and looked at the console with judging eyes. “Yes.” He nodded after a moment of silence. “I am not sure if we can move the ship anywhere, but the deep space scanner is now working. The main power core is still beyond repair without new parts, but the emergency generators should work. The solar panels performed as expected, Admiral Conway.”
“Well, congratulations, Mr. Ga’an,” Admiral Conway said with a smile. “You managed to fix our eyes and ears.”
Ga’an shrugged. “The tech team did the work. I simply helped them.”
“What is it but junk if there is no hand to hold a hammer?” the seasoned admiral winked. “What about the energy reserves on those emergency generators?”
“The team salvaged most of the damaged craft. I do not believe this ship will ever fly the way she did before, but there is enough energy to power the shields. Even the jump drive for a jump or two.”
“I do not believe we would be jumping anywhere from inside a forest, but it is good to know. I am thinking Ga’an,” Rebecca licked her lips, narrowing her eyes, “we may turn Deviator into a power station. That would give us a tremendous boost in manufacturing things and improving the town.”
“I do not like throwing away a warship.”
“She is anything but that now. You said it yourself, she will not fly.”
Ga’an grunted without a word.
“I also heard you want to change the ship announcements.”
“Yes, Admiral Conway. They are inefficient and indirect. With your permission, I want to implement a refined announcement system that leaves no room for confusion.”
Rebecca nodded with a smile. “Why not? Do it. The crew can use some discipline. They are becoming soft.”
“Thank you, Admiral Conway.”
“Now, to the other task at hand.” Her face became serious. “I want you to find Brother Cavil and help him with the monitoring of our new guests. The head of security, Mr. Vance, is no longer with us, and I cannot ask Staff Sergeant Carmen to leave her duties here. Besides, I trust your judgment. I need you to keep an eye on the bunch and make sure they behave.”
“What happened to Officer Vance?”
“He decided to become the plumber of the town.”
Ga’an grunted, “You want me to be a security guard.”
“I want you to be my eyes and ears, Ga’an,” Admiral Conway said. “You are the commander of this ship now.”
“Power station.”
The admiral smiled. “All right, power station. Take Sarah Davis with you if you see her.”
Ga’an didn’t say another word but gave a curt nod and left the bridge. By the time he was at the large elevator doors that separated the command center from the rest of the ship, Admiral Conway was already inspecting another station and boxing a poor ensign’s ears about the operational procedure.
It felt different outside. Even when the new transport appeared in New Eden’s sky, Ga’an preferred to stay behind, fixing the navigation system. Not that they were going anywhere or needed a working radar system. They were living in metal huts and eating around bonfires. But it gave him purpose to take on a task that required his full attention for almost nine months—repairing the superdreadnought as best as they could. That was all. He felt the emptiness inside, and even though he had protested, this new job could be what he needed; another distraction. He missed the subtle vibrations of a ship’s engine under his feet. The thrill of discovery. The endless space.
The daylight hurt his eyes at first, the shining rays of the planet’s sun reflecting from the leaves of the forest line near the large clearing the superdreadnought had created when it landed. Appeared out of thin air, he corrected himself, still unsure of how they had ended where they were, even though it was his second time. There was a small pond nearby, providing an unusually high yield of fish for the community. Not that he knew much about the human world, at least how it was in their time, but judging from New Eden’s human residents' reaction, it was unusual. I hate fish.
He observed the settlement from the cliff, watching the residents go about their business. It reminded him of the farming colonies in the Empire, small villages that focused on producing the necessary food for the Emperor’s army. Most of the work here was primitive, dependent on handheld tools and manpower. The ship had some resources for colonization, but it was a battleship, not a terraformer. Everything had to be done like their ancestors had done. He knew the idea of turning Deviator into a power station was a good one. He hated it, but it was good.
“I hate power stations. And I hate farming,” Ga’an mumbled to himself and took the path down the cliff near the ship’s airlock, one of many serving as access points. He didn’t understand the urge to create a city outside an already established safe spot in an alien environment. Deviator provided all the protection they needed, and, except for the apparent necessity of farming, people could still live inside the colossal ship. He shook his head in distaste.
By the time he was near the refugee hut, it was almost mid-day. The days were cooler now, the sun not giving as much heat as he preferred. Just warm enough. Their first winter on New Eden had been smooth, which he was thankful for, considering the need for constant food production. The town center didn’t seem any more crowded than when he had last visited. Not that a few hundred people would make much difference. He made his way to the entrance to see the new crowd with his own eyes. From his experience, there were only two ways to judge someone’s heart—the look in their eyes or their actions in combat. He needed to see these people. If the task became more boring than this, he would call in for Sarah Davis’s help. Perhaps she would be kind enough to take over even, letting him go back to the superdreadnought. Home.
“Ah, Ga’an!” Brother Cavil saluted him nervously, rushing out of the building in a hurry. “It is so very nice to see you, child. Yes, it is.” The old man tried to fake a sincere smile, throwing a quick glance at the building over his shoulder. “Um, why are you here?” He turned his head with an even worse smile than before.
“Child?”
Brother Cavil waved his hand nervously. “Never mind, an old habit.”
“I am here to see the new arrivals. Orders of Admiral Conway.” Ga’an tried to pass by the priest, but Brother Cavil took a step to his left, blocking the tall man’s path. Ga’an furrowed his brows. “Old man?”
“Now, Ga’an, my child,” Brother Cavil said, his giggling voice cracking nervously. “I need you to stay here. There are some…” He stopped and looked over his shoulder again, “…complications to address before doing anything rash.”
Ga’an narrowed his eyes, ripping through the old priest’s stare, nailing the poor man to his spot. “What complications?”
“Now, let us not be rash as I was just saying,” Brother Cavil babbled, raising his hands as if to slow down the Praetor. “Perhaps you go and… and… fix the radar dish?”
“It is not broken.”
“Oh, all right.” Brother Cavil looked around nervously as if hoping to find something to help him. “How about you—” He took a step to his right, blocking Ga’an’s way one more time.
Ga’an was growing impatient. “Move aside.” He held the priest with a firm grip, lifted him, and set him aside like a vase in a dining room.
“That was very rude of you, Ga’an!”
“I said, move. You did not.”
“Now, I expected this kind of behavior from that oak Raymond but not from you. That is just disrespectful. Showing respect to your elders is perhaps what we should talk about.”
“I am older than you, priest.”
“Still…”
Ga’an ignored the priest and stepped into the building.
The big room was gloomy, and the sudden breeze through the open door raised the dust, creating a veil of mystery screening the daylight like a yellow, grainy filter. It smelled of human waste. At least for
ty bunks, hastily made from scrap, stood side by side like a boot camp barracks. Some floor beds, mostly put together from emergency sleeping bags, were gathered at the far wall. The room was full of people who looked sick and tired. Medics attended to those in need, but the people were mostly still, as if in shock. Ga’an found misery here, not threats. He scanned the room, his jaw tightening. It was sad. Pitiful even.
His eyes stopped on a hooded figure, and he felt the hair on his back raise. The man—the posture suggested a very tall male—sat in a dark corner with two guards attending him from a safe distance. The man was avoiding contact with everyone. Neither his clothes nor his posture matched the rest of the refugees, Ga’an realized. The man was healthy. He showed strength in his fit body, the form of a warrior, and he was staring right back at Ga’an. The hood shadowed his face, but Ga’an’s sight was much better than humans, and he saw those dark eyes.
Ga’an growled and threw his cloak over his shoulders, rushing toward the dark figure. The man stood without advancing, but Ga’an saw the tension in his muscles, prepared for a countermove. The two guards attending him looked as if they were trying to decide whether they should step out of Ga’an’s way or be smashed against a nearby wall. One tried to stop him, only to fly back with a harsh push from the Nucteel.
“You!” he shouted. “I know—Argh!” Ga’an’s eyes watered with a sudden, sharp pain in the back of his head. His vision blurred, and wherever he looked, bright dots invaded his sight. “Argh!” he yelled again, another spike of pain rushing through his body.
Someone babbled behind his back. “I am sorry, Ga’an. I tried to warn you.”
“Old man,” he snarled at the rake the old priest held, the tines covered in his own blue blood. Ga’an couldn’t resist the urge to faint anymore, and he passed out.
I hate everything.
BUSY AS A BEE
“James, we don’t have all day, boy.”
“I’m almost done.”
Liam snorted. “Yeah.” Gods knew he didn’t want to spend a second more than necessary. They were deep inside the forest, and the growing cold wasn’t making the job any more appealing to the old cook. “I don’t like being out here. It gives me the chills,” Liam said as if it needed any clarification.
He missed the days onboard Deviator, no matter how harsh they had been lately. Before the war, his workspace was like any ordinary kitchen; stew boiling in huge pots, privates just out of the academy running around in their dirty linen aprons as kitchen boys, preparing meals for some eight thousand people. But when his shift was over, Liam had the chance to chill out at one of the cafeterias, watching the stars from the gallery or visiting the shuttle bays, passing the time dreaming as shuttles and patrol wings flew by him. Now, he was chopping strange-looking trees on a desolate planet, and he hated every second of it. He even missed the sour reek of onions on his uniform that he had never managed to get rid of. Liam hated this place. He hated it with his guts.
“What ya think?”
“Huh?” Liam blinked. “What was that?”
“The new ship, what do you make of it?” James was indifferent to their actual task. We need timber, the headquarters said, and the boy was at it. Chop. Tie. Stack. Repeat. He seemed content, even. The boy was one of the clerks at the engineering office, lost within the numbers of supply crates and never-ending acquisition request forms. Liam knew this was the real adventure for the boy. And considering his nonexistent interaction with the outside world, everything looked fresh, no matter how abnormal. He was also somewhat a halfwit. For him, the forest was a forest. Trees were just trees, and their overly curled shapes and extra-darkened barks were only minor details. The birds here had little or no plumage, but the boy didn’t care.
It bothered Liam. They looked sick to his eyes. Everything here was ill-looking. “I dunno.” The cook really hadn’t paid much attention to the events of the last few days, trying to keep away from the buzz. “Trouble, if you ask me.”
“Trouble?”
“New faces are always welcome, but a ship full of sick and starving refugees is bad news in my book.”
“They’re just people in need of help, chief.”
“Yeah, well…” He expected at least a few attempts of thievery or brawls before the end of the week, if not more. First, it was the damned forest. Now, he also had to look over his shoulder every minute. “Just stay sharp for petty crimes.”
“Oh.” James nodded in agreement, a sudden brightness in his eyes. “I should tell Irma to stay away from that new bunch. She’s all too eager to accommodate the needy.” He nodded several times as if to affirm himself.
“She’s a nurse, James. It’s normal.” Liam leaned against one of the trees awaiting chopping, and mopped his sweaty brow. “Though it’s best to keep your eyes open. No harm in being vigilant.”
“Yeah.” James sat beside a trunk near him, tiredly and puffed. “I don’t understand why we can’t use those mechs to cut these trees.” He looked around, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I like this job, but it would take forever for us two to finish this lot. With that machinery, we could do this in a few hours tops.”
Liam took out his flask and sipped some brandy, the last drops of one of the few bottles he managed to sneak from his kitchen before the admiral locked down the ship’s stores. “To make us work.” He handed the small metal bottle to James.
“I don’t get that. We already work as hard as anyone,” James said. He reached for the drink, gulping loud and squeezing his eyes shut as the warmth spread to his chest. “We could do other things.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“I dunno… Like, I can work at the new construction site.”
Liam smiled bitterly. “Kid, you’re a clerk, and I’m a cook whose services are no longer necessary since everyone has a home, taking care of their own meals. If they use those machines, we’d simply lose our usefulness. The admiral doesn’t want her crew to turn into idle thugs.” He raised his finger as if to warn the kid. “That, my boy, is something no one wants. Also, who would fuel those things when they run out, eh? Four-meter-tall robots need juice to work, you know.”
James pursed his lips, “I dunno.” His eyes glowed with a stupid, happy smile. “I like the forest anyway. One of the hunters said he saw a green lizard-animal yesterday, somewhere near the cove.”
Liam shook his head in pity. “Yeah, I can—” He yanked his hand off the trunk he had been leaning on. “You little sneaky bastard—something bit me!” He narrowed his eyes, looking at the fallen tree to see the little bugger.
“There,” James pointed at the trunk.
Liam looked to where the boy pointed. A tiny, yellow creature crawled out from a small hole. The creature buzzed as if to shake off the shock of Liam’s touch and circled the tree. “It looks like a bee.” He had worked in the forest with James for several months now, and this was the first time he had seen anything like it. It resembled a firefly, slightly bigger, and it flew around the tree like a wasp protecting its home. “I didn’t see it sitting there.”
“Interesting,” James murmured, slowly standing to take a closer look.
“What is it?” Liam asked with irritation. His hand had reddened.
James leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re one weird bee, aren’t you?” The boy giggled. “It’s not moving, Liam. It’s facing me.”
“Huh?” Liam followed James’s stare. The bee had stopped its circling and hung in front of James’s eyes as if it was leveling with him. Time seemed to have stopped around the insect, and if it weren’t for the slight buzzing of its wings, Liam would have thought the thing frozen in midair.
James grinned at Liam. “Now, this thing hardly looks like it would hurt, chief.” He turned back to face the bug. “You sneaky, sneaky firefly!”
“Yeah…” Liam started, but the sudden, precise movement of the bug irked him. “Careful!”
“What—” James’s words turned into agonized screams as the bug dived into
the clerk’s right eye with tremendous speed and precision in an instant like a bullet. “My eye!”
“By the spirits, James!” Liam rushed to hold the boy to check the damage. The young man’s hands were locked tight on his face, not letting go. “Lemme have a look, son.”
“Arrgh!” James growled as pale, yellowish pus seeped through his fingers.
“We have to take you to the infirmary.” Liam packed their field gear as best he could and grabbed James by the arm, rushing him toward the town, the two of them leaving a trail of sick, yellow fluid. “Hold on, boy. It will be all right.” Liam didn’t think it was all right. A damaged eye was a big deal. If they were on board Deviator, the medical team would be able to instantly fix the damage. But things were much more different on New Eden. Much more traditional.
“It hurts, Liam,” James sobbed. “It burns. It’s digging in my eye!”
“I know, son, just hold on.”
“Cut it out,” James begged. “Cut my eye out!”
“James, you would die. We need to go back.” Liam threw away the gear and took James into his arms, running for the town. “Gods know I hate forests!”
WHAT GOES AROUND...
It took considerable effort to keep Ga’an calm, and the nasty lump on the back of his head wasn’t helping. His stare was cold and full of rage, mostly when focused on Brother Cavil. Each time the old man looked back, Ga’an’s faint smile—sneer—cast him into ashen fear and terror.
They were all in the refugee barracks. Before the new first officer was awake, Rebecca was already there to take control of the situation. She had been enjoying her tea in her quarters, a justly earned recreational time—something she found harder to create every day—when one of the clerks rushed into her room to deliver the news of an incident with one of the refugees. Rebecca had almost waved away the message, letting the security team handle it, but stopped short when the young soldier said it involved Ga’an and Brother Cavil. By the time she was at the barracks, her frustration had turned into shock. One guard had his gun trained on a tall figure seated in the middle of the room, and the other three were keeping Ga’an from rushing at the dark man. An ensign was practically hugging the Praetor’s legs with all his limbs. Two guards she had posted to the station were nearby, being tended by a nurse. From the looks of it, they had had a pretty rough wrestling match with Ga’an. And they had lost, badly.
Balance of Power: The Blackened Prophecy Book 2 Page 4