Angel of the Alliance (Lady Hellgate Book 4)

by Greg Dragon

  Repulsion, however, was self-inflicted, and would send the strongest spacer to the bottom of a bottle. That was what Helga wanted as the Ursula made its way out to the station known as A’wfa Terracydes, but with eighteen new passengers on the ship, she had to play the part of a proper lieutenant.

  Five people had been injured and were being tended to by the doctor, who looked beyond excited to have something to do. Zan had the helm, allowing Helga to get some much-needed rest, but with the noise from the dock—where the Vestalians talked loudly and extensively—she had given up on that prospect and retired to the mess, where she now sat nursing a hot cup of coffee.

  Cilas was in his cabin speaking to the captain, a daily ritual for him, it seemed, since they had shoved off from Sanctuary. Sundown came in wearing a tight blue shirt with the Alliance logo embroidered above his left pectoral. He wore black and charcoal BDU pants, Marine-issued jackboots, and his las-sword hung loosely from his belt.

  He looked more smuggler than pirate in that getup, which brought a smile to Helga’s melancholy face. He gave her a crooked grin and sat across from her, running his dark hand through his hair.

  “Is it just us?” he said, looking around, and Helga nodded and met his eyes, wondering what he wanted to say. “Have you sat back and thought about the reality of us actually getting our planet back?” When he spoke his Virulian accent was thick, which led her to believe that this was a recital and not something concocted from his own conscious thought. She sipped slowly on the hot, bitter liquid and stared at the open doorway.

  “I feel like I’m back in the academy,” she said, glancing at him, “And Commander Sunny’s about to give me a lecture. Anyway, yeah, I’ve thought on it. Many times, actually, and I’ve come to the conclusion that in time, with our continued efforts, the Geralos will run out of resources. Since they’re one planet against many, with no allies—not counting the traitorous schtills selling off our people of course,” she scoffed. “Since they are alone in their efforts, we will eventually bend them to surrender.”

  Sundown laughed. “You never disappoint, Helga. Now that is the answer I expected from a soldier, born and bred to be a soldier, within a system that rewards the best soldiering. I wonder, however, what the person beneath that uniform really thinks, if we were to remove all of that Alliance programming. Would she admit that this war is futile, and that we’re all part of an orchestrated dance put on by something beyond our control?”

  “You mean the maker? Are we onto religion now, Sunny?”

  “Maker of what?” He laughed again, “Life? Vestalians? Casanians?” He shrugged. “Here’s a fact, Helga. Casanians have the largest brains out of all the species in our galaxy. Does your large Casanian brain really believe that there is a creator of all that we know as life? Do you believe this maker has a maker? And if so, wouldn’t there need to be a maker of that maker, and so on? And who started that cycle? I could keep on asking who and why, unless our reality is set on a loop.

  “Some think that we are a part of a universe that has always been, and will always be, continuously making and remaking itself. They say our futures have already been decided, and anything we ‘choose’ isn’t really choice. Have you pondered on these things, Nighthawk?”

  “No,” Helga said matter-of-factly, “I have enough schtill hurting my head.” She was confused as to where he was going with this conversation, and why he needed privacy to broach it. Was he attacking her intelligence, or setting her up for a lesson of some sort? She had decided to play along rather than blow him off like she was prone to do with smarty-pants spacers. It took her mind off the past, and so it was a welcome distraction, but she disliked feeling as foolish as he was having her feel now.

  “Of course you haven’t thought of these things,” he continued. “Your Alliance doesn’t want thinkers in the uniform, they want obedient spacers and officers. Trust your command, that’s the only thought you need, right?” And he put his fist over his heart in a mock salute for emphasis.

  “Thinking beyond the war itself makes you a bad spacer, so they wired you to accept, lest you second guess your orders. But you are a thinker, Helga Ate, and it is why your dreams have haunted you the way they have. You don’t believe the things you say, no matter how many times you repeat them, and you know deep down that there is another truth now, don’t you? Every other Seeker I’ve known—”

  “Excuse me?” she said suddenly, staring at him with a look of horror and surprise.

  “A Jumper knows the chosen when he meets one, Helga, and you don’t hide it well when it comes to the action. The things you do inside a cockpit, and the way you shoot, it goes beyond natural talent and training. You have been touched. It’s why I wanted to speak with you privately because it became clear that you’ve kept it to yourself.”

  “And what is the truth behind the maker, Sundown?” she said, her anxiety setting her heart back to racing.

  “That we are all insignificant as far as life is concerned. There is no cause and effect for our future as a species, based on fantasies created by these people we elect to lead us. If there’s a maker, she would be neutral, choosing neither Geralos nor Vestalian to come out ahead. But evidence points to her not being neutral, doesn’t it? Vestalia now has allies and technology beyond anything they would have developed on their own. If that first Meluvian explorer hadn’t decided to roam the galaxy and risked visiting Vestalia, there would have been no help when the Geralos came. Hard to see it as chance, and there are other things that only my order can know.”

  “Are you recruiting me, Sunny?” she said, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves.

  “You may qualify, but there’s more to becoming one of us than being born with heightened senses, I’m afraid. If you are noticed, and that would take much more than the observations of this outcast, then you will be summoned, and as you know, refusing is never an option.”

  Helga thought on this and it frightened her. Jumpers called themselves agents or spies, but in reality they were monks with their own religion. To be summoned meant that she would be reset and made to forget much of her past, and it would be akin to death and rebirth. “So we’re supposed to win, regardless?” she said, bringing him back to his explanation of life.

  “Who is to know, but in the end, all a mortal can do is guess at it. Look not to admirals and councilors to give you the secret of life, or to control you with wishes and dreams of a glorious Geralos genocide. There are worlds beyond this one, Helga, vast sprawling worlds with their own politics, dreams, and thoughts that they are significant. You alone can control the way you digest the fact that we’re nothing, and if you can accept it and press on, then your gift will become that much greater.”

  He grew quiet after that last sentence, and she thought on it as she stared down into the blackness of her mug.

  “I used to think that Anstractor was so big that no one would ever have the pleasure of appreciating all of its beauty,” she said. “On every planet and moon that I have visited, the world seems so vast that yeah, it lets you know just how small and forgettable we are. But listening to your words, and the strange way they registered with me just now, has me feeling more frightened than I have ever felt. Without a maker, we chance oblivion, don’t we? And if oblivion is our end, then it becomes especially sad the way we all waste our lives. Thype, Sunny, I don’t need this sort of crap in my head right now. Why didn’t you come talk to me on Sanctuary when I was fully relaxed and drunk out of my mind?”

  “You’re a hard woman to catch by herself, except for the times when we’ve been together stalking or dodging bullets and bomblets. Everyone is busy tending to their stations, and I knew that you would take time alone to come down from the excitement earlier.”

  “You too.” She smiled at him. “I’ve noticed since the pit. You take long breaks after fighting, and there’s a running joke that you are incapable of sleep. On that topic, since you’re being so forthcoming all of a sudden, what’s with you, Sunny? You’re the only Jumper
I know that chooses a pistol over their las-sword. I’ve seen you use your blade, and you’re amazing with it, so I’m confused as to why you have that LS-R. Isn’t it part of your code to only use your order’s chosen weapon? I never saw Lamia use a pistol, though he did carry around that laser-rifle.”

  “Other than Lamia Brafa, how many Jumpers have you known?” Sundown said, relaxing his shoulders.

  “None, but I have always heard—”

  “Rumors, conjecture, romantic notions of who we are and what we are about. We have codes, Nighthawk, but none to do with the weapons we choose. A Jumper is trained to win at all costs when it comes to a duel, survival in times of war, and healing when our allies are wounded. Any tool that assists in seeing these things through are not only permitted but encouraged. My brother Lamia was gifted with the blade, but if I was to guess, he was likely a soldier before he was reborn. If you have a question of my order, you need only ask it, and I will clear the haze. We sacrifice everything to become what we are, Helga, so I don’t see the logic in being tethered to a las-sword.”

  “That makes sense,” Helga said, yawning since the time had flipped over into the third shift. “I guess a lot of the things that I heard were the inventions of spacers bored enough to make schtill up.”

  “People are fascinated with my order because of our talents, but what comes with membership is our own to know, so naturally they fill in the blanks. Helga, your gift, it doesn’t grow naturally over time; it must be trained and developed through conscious thought. Everything I told you about the war, life, and your unimportance in the grand scheme of things, they can discourage the common soldier, and you’re going to want to ignore it. That is your training, stick to the mission, but the mind of a Seeker is uncomfortable. It is tortured, tough to deal with. You must consider every outcome of every situation, especially when it is painful.”

  “So, to become a better Seeker, I will have to let in the very things that I have worked to remove from my mind over the years? Is that what you’re telling me?” Helga said, putting down the coffee cup to rub at a sudden pain in her temple. “Sunny, when you met me I was being attacked, and you saved my life. That version of me, the same one sitting with you now, is the reformed Helga Ate who can eat and sleep like a regular person so she’s effective in the field. Before Sanctuary, I did let those things in, and as much as I tried to avoid them as you assert, they stayed on my mind every waking hour, and I was malnourished, tired, and one bad mission away from stopping the pain permanently.

  “It took long talks with Cilas and seeing a psych for me to be able to function and get back to being a proper officer. These Seeker gifts you mention; are they just intensely realistic nightmares with hints of realism, or will I be able to manifest something miraculous, like flying my ship using only my mind? If you say no, and that the nightmares are what I can look forward to, then I will happily stay ignorant and work at forgetting that I have this so-called gift.”

  “I have an idea,” Sundown said, standing up and reaching for her hand. “Words will not work on one such as you, Helga Ate, so let me show you something of what awaits you through that pain.”

  They walked together towards the stern of the ship, where there was an empty compartment meant for storage or extra berthing. When they were inside he locked the door, and looked about for any cameras. “Just a moment,” he said, and sat on the deck with his legs crossed and his large hands resting on his knees.

  He sat that way for a long time, but Helga dared not disturb him, for wanting to see what it was that a trained Seeker could manifest.

  The child inside her wanted to try and kick him and test the legendary reflexes of the Jumper agency, but the need to know about her gift killed the urge, having been aware of it now for over a year.

  “Follow my lead,” he said, and Helga sat in front of him, crossing her legs in the same fashion before closing her eyes and waiting.

  “I am merely a warrior, with some sight based on the training of my order,” he said. “But you are blessed with the gift, and need only focus for it to manifest itself.”

  “Focus on what?” she said, impatiently.

  “Something or someone you care about dearly,” Sundown said.

  Helga focused on Brise Sol, the retired Nighthawk, who she feared was now living on a hub, poor and destitute, having fallen from the graces of the Alliance.

  She remembered his laugh, and his bad jokes, but most of all his short red hair. It made her smile, and a warmth spread from her core to the tips of her limbs. She became lightheaded, and though she wanted to open her eyes and stop it, she forced herself to bear it, knowing that eventually she would lose consciousness.

  “Very good,” Sundown said, and she opened her eyes to find him leaning against the bulkhead.

  “What? How long was I out?” she said, scrambling to her feet and glancing at her wrist-comms, confused at what just happened.

  “Maybe ten minutes, but that’s of no circumstance. What did you see?” he said.

  “Nothing,” she said. “But I feel thyping amazing. Stranger still is that the person I thought about no longer worries me. I somehow know that he’s okay,” she said.

  “Outstanding,” he said, smiling. “Now you know what it takes to calm your mind.”

  “So, this is what you do after missions?” Helga said.

  “Something like that, but more intense, being that I am merely a person and not a Seeker, such as yourself.”

  “Sunny, I don’t know how to thank you for trying to help me, but I haven’t talked to the Nighthawks about what I am,” she said.

  “I understand, and you’ve done well to keep it a secret. No telling what would come of it if the Alliance had that information. In the old days, before the Geralos, Seekers were sought out for their prescience in revealing things that would never be known otherwise. Seekers held high stations in the government, for good and bad. They were used for predictions, judgment, whatever their governments wanted. You know my complications with the Alliance, having seen the ugly side of the upper tier of politics. I fear what they would attempt if they knew an ESO star had the gift of sight.”

  “I didn’t even factor them into the equation,” Helga muttered. “Now I really want to keep it close to the chest.”

  “The ability to see is but one branch of the vast tree that is our abilities. When a Seeker has manifested a certain level of mastery, then is the time when my order takes notice. You can withstand the pain, Helga, not because you’re Casanian and Vestalian, but because unlike other people, your power craves it to open those locked doors inside of your cranium. You’ve shown immense potential just from the way you tap into it during a fight. Tell me, how do you do that? How do you dodge cannons and strike targets when anyone else at your level would fail?”

  Helga sighed and dropped her guard a bit, leaning against the bulkhead as she regarded him.

  “I get angry,” she said, smiling morosely at the thought. “All of the pent-up rage that lives within my heart seems to bubble to the surface when the boys or I are being threatened. I hold it back during petty squabbles, but out there I let it go. It feels … good. Does it feel good to you as well, Sunny? It’s exhilarating getting so worked up and then everything around me just becomes manageable. That’s the best way that I can describe it.”

  “You own that branch, and this is why. Open your mind and you will become that much greater,” Sundown said. “What you need to focus on is the here and now, what you stand for, why you fight, and own up to the fact that it could be futile. Look past the Geralos at the galaxy, and the individual planets, and the worlds within each and every one of them. Follow orders, but question them internally to know what their source was. It goes against everything you were trained to do, but our minds demand a vast education.”

  Helga thought on his words and everything she had done leading up to Sanctuary. She had worked hard as a young cadet to show up the bullies and instructors that made her out to be a small half-alien gi
rl whose future would be in communications or the bridge. Her blood spoke differently however, since she was an Ate, from a long line of Marines and Vestalian soldiers. She aced all her tests and practiced hours on end to shoot straight and defend herself in a fistfight. This gained her second-class, a prestige only awarded to the top 5% in the Alliance Navy.

  She was invited to BLAST, and survived it, which got her a spot on the Nighthawks, essentially accomplishing more in her short years of life than most people could hope for in their career. Yet, in all of that struggle and focused excellence, she hadn’t dared to look into herself, to question why she did what she did or the reasoning behind their missions.

  Sundown was right; she had set up barriers in both her mind and in her life. Even with Cilas, she had denied her wants until it became too unbearable for her to go on without seeing where his heart was.

  She had all but jumped him, only to find that he too had wanted her. The leap of faith had paid off, and even now the memory of that night made her smile. Thinking back on everything she’d survived despite the odds, her bravery only had limits when it came to her wayward thoughts.

  “So, all I have to do is allow myself to question things that I was told not to question?” she said.

  “I will be here when you need me,” the Jumper said, getting to his feet and dusting himself off.

  After his long speech she saw him in a whole new light, no longer the gruff mystery who they found on the streets of a hidden space station. Sundown was a former assassin, spy, and several other things he would never admit to, but he was also a Jumper, and a monk with knowledge that was privy only to those of his order.

  They were guardians of the Seekers who monitored the war from the inside, only lending their service to those who deserved it. To have him here meant that they saw something in the Nighthawks, and for the first time Helga realized that that something was her.