Ignotus

by Kevin Hardman

As the admiral entered, Adames – who had been keeping an eye on the door – shouted, “Room, ten-hut!”

  All of the Marines immediately stood and came to attention.

  “As you were,” Lafayette said as he took Maker’s previous spot at the head of the conference table, then gave everyone a moment to resume their seats before continuing. (Maker unobtrusively stepped to a corner of the room where Erlen lay resting, while Lafayette’s executive officer stayed close by the admiral’s side.)

  “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Admiral Lafayette,” he began. “Without mincing words, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone in this room for the assignment you’ve undertaken today. I know that it was a difficult decision, and that each of you volunteered for the mission you’re going to embark on, despite your personal misgivings. That kind of action is indicative of the integrity, honor, and bravery of those who serve. And although it isn’t often publicly hailed, that kind of act – that kind of sacrifice – does not go unnoticed. Hasn’t gone unnoticed. So today, we honor you for it.”

  The admiral turned to his exec, who had inconspicuously placed the briefcase on the conference table and opened it while his commanding officer had been speaking. He now handed Lafayette a small, decorated case, which the admiral took.

  “Sergeant Diviana,” Lafayette said sonorously.

  Diviana came smartly to her feet and turned to face the admiral. “Sir, yes, sir.”

  “Please approach,” Lafayette stated.

  Diviana marched up to the admiral, who turned to face her as she reached the end of the table and stopped.

  “For bravery and distinguished service,” Lafayette said, “I present and award to you the Sunburst Medal of Valor.”

  There were a couple of surprised gasps, and Maker smiled to himself. The Sunburst Medal was one of the highest honors that could be bestowed on a soldier.

  Ignoring the excitement his announcement had generated, the admiral opened the case and removed from it a circular, golden medal with a sunburst design on it, attached to a ribbon. Although plainly flabbergasted, Diviana retained enough composure to incline her head, allowing Lafayette to hang the ribbon around her neck. She then stepped back and saluted the admiral, who returned the gesture. Turning, she began marching back to her seat when Lafayette’s voice stopped her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded. “We’re not done.”

  Chapter 37

  Much to her surprise, Diviana received several more medals and commendations. It was, without question, an embarrassment of riches. However, she wasn’t the only person so honored. One by one, the admiral called up everyone in the room and presented them with various awards, citing their heroism and gallantry. Even the civilians were not spared, with Chantrey and Planck being honored with non-military awards. (Browing, who was actually an officer in the Reserves, received military awards like the members of Maker’s team.)

  The last person to be singled out was Adames. After getting a bevy of hardware hung around his neck, he was certain the ceremony – for lack of a better term – was over. Thus, he was caught flat-footed when the admiral told him to remain standing.

  “It has been my privilege,” Lafayette stated, addressing everyone, “to be here today honoring your prowess on the battlefield. But often we overlook the work that takes place away from the theater of war. Things like training and logistics, that support and enhance our ability to accomplish the mission. People often excel in one area or the other – either on the battlefield or off – so it’s a rare treat when you find someone who is adept on all fronts. Someone who takes the initiative in doing what’s required without being told. Someone who leads by example. Master Sergeant Adames is such an individual, and so we’d like to reward his skill, knowledge, service, and overall ability by promoting him to Chief Master Sergeant, effective immediately.”

  Adames blinked, plainly stunned as a general round of cheers and applause sounded from everyone in the room. He looked at Maker with a did-you-know-about-this? expression on his face, but the latter only grinned and clapped along with everyone else. Pressed to say a few words, the NCO – clearly not keen on public speaking – mumbled a quick thanks and then tried to step aside.

  “Before I forget,” the admiral chimed in, handing Adames a small black jewelry case. He opened it to reveal a metallic set of Chief Master Sergeant insignia.

  “Those are actually ceremonial,” Lafayette explained. “You’ll have a full and official set of your new rank delivered to you before you depart.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Adames said sincerely, as he typically would have had to purchase his own insignia. “That’s very kind of you.”

  “My pleasure,” the admiral said with a smile, “and congratulations once again. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  As he trailed off, Lafayette caught Maker’s eye and motioned with his head towards the door. As he turned and walked toward the exit, the admiral shouted “Carry on” over his shoulder before anyone could call the room to attention. A moment later, he – along with his exec and Maker –was gone.

  That said, the door had barely closed behind the trio of officers before the room exploded with excitement. Everyone began chattering at once, gleefully congratulating one another and admiring their various awards. (All except Cano Snick, that is, who – in keeping with his somber nature – seemed embarrassed by the attention, although he heaped praise on his teammates.) In working the room, so to speak, Chantrey eventually found herself in front of Adames.

  “Congrats,” she said with a smile. “You deserve it.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, “but I think your comment applies to everybody.”

  “Including your illustrious leader,” Chantrey added. “So what happened to his medals? Did he get them in a separate ceremony or something?”

  “Uhhh,” Adames droned, taking her elbow and guiding her to one side of the room so they could speak somewhat privately. “Maker’s not getting any medals.”

  “Huh?” she muttered in confusion. “Why not? He went on the same missions that the rest of you were recognized for – led them, in fact. Why wouldn’t he be entitled to the same thing?”

  “Well, I’m assuming we got them because Maker nominated us for them.”

  “So why wouldn’t Gant qualify?”

  “Because he can’t nominate himself. More to the point, typically only a schmuck will declare himself worthy of medals for bravery or something along those lines. What’s expected is that your superiors will observe you in action or note what you’ve done and nominate you accordingly for anything merited.”

  Chantrey thought about this for a moment, then asked, “So you’re saying that no one’s nominated him for anything? After all he’s done?”

  “Maybe you weren’t listening the other day, but Gant said it himself: he’s radioactive. That spreads in all directions, even up the chain of command. No one’s going to nominate him for anything – not a medal, not a promotion, nothing – because he’s Madman Maker, and supporting him in any way would taint them.”

  “But that’s not right,” Chantrey stated fiercely, with a stern look on her face.

  “Why is any of this surprising to you?” Adames asked. “You’re a behavioral specialist. You couldn’t predict that this would happen?”

  “I don’t know who makes these decisions, so I can’t guess at what they’d do,” she said defensively. “Plus, I generally work off psych profiles and other forms of data.”

  “Well, try not to make a thing out of it,” Adames advised. “Gant’s made his peace with it.”

  Chantrey was nonplussed. “What do you mean?”

  Adames sighed. “He knew this was what to expect when he came back into the Corps. Professionally, the specter of the Orpheus Moon is going to haunt him forever – and now, presumably, the Hundred-and-Twelfth as well.”

  “And so that’s it? No matter what he does or how much he achieves, it will never be enough to banish the ghosts of the past?�
�

  Adames shrugged in exasperation. “You talk like there are a bunch of options here. I agree that the treatment he gets is undeserved, but what exactly do you expect me to do?”

  Chantrey gave him a fierce stare. “I think a better question is this: what do you think Maker would do if it was you being maligned?”

  As she spoke, she reached out and tapped the case holding the NCO’s ceremonial rank (which he gripped in his palm), then she turned and walked away.

  Chapter 38

  There was initially silence after Maker – now accompanied by Erlen – left the conference room with Lafayette. The admiral cast a curious glance at the Niotan as they walked, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge his presence. (His executive officer, on the other hand, appeared somewhat unnerved by Erlen’s presence, but followed his commander’s lead and stayed silent.)

  “Thanks for distributing the awards,” Maker said after a few moments. “It was a nice gesture.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Lafayette replied with a dismissive gesture. “After reviewing the files, I was happy to do it.”

  “Oh?” Maker droned, raising an eyebrow.

  “Admittedly, I could have just rubber-stamped it,” the admiral confessed, “but I actually read the recommendations you submitted. Much to my surprise, you didn’t overreach in a single instance. Every person you nominated was qualified for and met the criteria for the awards and commendations they ultimately received. Even Adames, in all honesty, hit all the touchstones for promotion to chief.”

  “Glad to hear you approve,” Maker remarked mordantly. “I’m sure your conscience would have given you fits and kept you awake at night otherwise.”

  Lafayette chuckled. “You never let up, do you?”

  Maker merely shrugged in response, noting that they had reached the Nova’s exit.

  “Anyway,” the admiral continued as they left the ship, “just remember that this mission is critical – for a host of reasons. So, for the sake of all that’s holy, keep the ambassador safe and keep him alive. Think you can manage that?”

  “Sure,” Maker responded in a noncommittal fashion.

  “Great,” the admiral said. “He’s all yours.”

  With that, Lafayette pointed with his chin towards a nearby wall. There, standing between two guards, was Skullcap.

  Chapter 39

  Maker and Skullcap stood across the room from each other, with the former eyeing the latter suspiciously. They were currently aboard the Nova, in the quarters that had been designated for Skullcap’s use.

  After pointing out the insectoid to Maker, the admiral had handed over a data chip containing the hyperspace jump coordinates they needed to use (along with other pertinent info) and then taken his leave. In a similar fashion, the two guards had escorted Skullcap aboard the Nova and to the cabin Maker dictated before swiftly departing. (Needless to say, Maker had made the announcement to his crew that their “guest” had come aboard and to make ready for departure.)

  As he studied the Vacra leader, Maker tried to make sense of something that had happened earlier – or rather, hadn’t happened. When Lafayette had drawn Maker’s attention to Skullcap, Erlen had been with him. Considering their past run-ins with the insectoid, Maker would ordinarily have expected the Niotan to go on the attack. Instead, Erlen had simply let out a curious rumbling. It was behavior that was out of the ordinary – enough so that it made him even more wary about the mission – and out of concern, he had sent the Niotan back to their quarters once Skullcap was brought aboard.

  “This abode will be adequate,” the insectoid announced, interrupting Maker’s thoughts.

  “So glad it meets your approval,” Maker quipped acerbically, “especially since it’s a take-it-or-leave-it proposition.”

  “If now is an appropriate juncture, I was hoping we could speak,” Skullcap said.

  “Sure,” Maker stated with a nod. “I’ll speak, you’ll listen. Now, first of all, you’re confined to quarters for the duration of this trip, except when your presence is absolutely required elsewhere. To enforce this mandate, the door to this cabin will stay locked and can only be opened from the outside. On those occasions when you leave these quarters, it will be in the company of an armed escort. Any questions?”

  “I was not informed that my status would be that of convict.”

  “On the contrary, you’re an honored guest.”

  “So this is how you treat all envoys?”

  “Only the ones who try to kill us.”

  Skullcap made an odd sound that Maker couldn’t interpret, then said, “I am not the enemy you think I am, Maker.”

  “If not, then it’s only because you’re worse,” Maker shot back. “But if you’re feeling shunned and need someone to chat with, talk to Deadeye.”

  “Dead Eye?” the insectoid intoned, plainly curious.

  Maker tapped his p-comp and, with a slight hiss of hydraulics, a panel in the ceiling opened and something like a miniature turret – about the size of a fist – came into view.

  “This is Deadeye,” Maker declared, pointing up at the device. “He’s your new best bud and will be with you wherever you go on this ship in the sense that there’s one of these in every room, although not always in the ceiling.”

  Skullcap tilted his head and glanced up at the mechanism.

  “Deadeye has scanning technology that’s attuned to your biorhythm, so he’ll be watching you wherever you go,” Maker explained. “More importantly, he has specific instructions regarding how to respond should your behavior become problematic.”

  “Problematic?” Skullcap repeated.

  “Yes. For example, if you try to tamper with the lock on your door, he’ll shoot you dead. If you go wandering around the ship without an escort, he’ll shoot you dead. If you try to disable Deadeye himself, guess what? He’ll shoot you dead.”

  As he spoke, Maker reflected on the time his people had put into installing this particular safeguard. It was the task he had assigned to Wayne and – after the Nova’s unauthorized jaunt the previous day and the debugging of the ship – the younger Marine had utilized the authority granted to him to the fullest. In essence, he had drafted almost everyone on the Nova in some capacity or other in order to get the job done in a reasonable span of time.

  “So it watches and kills,” Skullcap summarized. “Dead Eye.”

  “You catch on quick,” Maker said. “So just obey the house rules, and we won’t have any problems.”

  Without waiting for further comment, Maker left.

  Chapter 40

  “How long before we can leave?” Maker inquired.

  “Hopefully in a minute or two,” answered Wayne, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat again, with the flight and navigation controls at his fingertips.

  Maker fought the impulse to drum his fingers impatiently. Sitting in his chair on the bridge of the Nova, he turned his attention to the view outside the ship being shown via monitor – namely, two battle cruisers in close proximity.

  After leaving Skullcap’s cabin (and double-checking that the insectoid was locked in), Maker had gone straight to the bridge. Everyone was already in their appropriate positions, so it had simply been a matter of him giving the word and moments later they were leaving the docking bay. By the time they got clear of the space station, the two cruisers – which had been waiting outside the station on standby – began hailing them. After a brief introduction between Maker and the cruisers’ captains, the three vessels had continued moving away until they reached a safe distance for the jump to hyperspace.

  Impatience getting the better of him, Maker asked, “What’s taking so long?”

  “We’re traveling in a convoy, so the navigation systems have to sync up,” Wayne explained.

  “I get that,” Maker acknowledged, “but it usually only takes them a few seconds.”

  “Well, something’s throwing them off,” Wayne stated. “Maybe it’s the data on that chip the admiral gave you, but there’s something abo
ut this trip they’re not liking.”

  “That goes for all of us,” Adames chimed in, causing a general round of laughter.

  Although he chuckled with the others, Wayne’s comment gave Maker something to mentally chew on. Basically, they were about to head well into the unknown, as evidenced by the fact that just getting to their initial destination was going to require multiple hyperspace jumps. The first jump would take them to the Fringe, which was the outermost edge of the Gaian Expanse and human settlement. Every jump thereafter (and there would be at least a dozen more) would take them farther into the Beyond – the region of space that was generally uncharted and unexplored.

  “Enough of this,” Maker finally muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Diviana, tell them we’re taking off. They’ve got the coordinates for the first jump point. They can meet us there and then try this syncing thing again.”

  Diviana, who was manning the comm again, nodded and was about to do as instructed when Wayne spoke up.

  “Got it,” the young Marine announced. “The navigation systems are synced. We’re good to go.”

  “About time,” Maker grumbled. “Diviana, belay that prior order. Confirm that the cruisers are ready and initiate countdown.”

  Moments later, they made the jump to hyperspace.

  Chapter 41

  They went through the hyperspace jumps without incident. Maker stayed alert but didn’t really anticipate any trouble because Lafayette, exhibiting enviable foresight, had sent scout ships to check out the jump points in advance – essentially the moment Skullcap first proffered the coordinates. Their reports were among the info on the data chip the admiral had provided, but the gist of what they’d documented was that the jump points appeared safe.

  That said, the trip took the better part of the day – mostly because after every jump, the navigation systems of the three ships needed to sync up again. That part wasn’t unusual; ships in a convoy always conferred to make sure there was consensus on where they currently were, and more importantly – after making the jump to hyperspace – where they expected to come out. The issue in this instance was that the computers on the three vessels consistently had trouble reaching an accord with respect to the coordinates. The end result was that they spent far more time at each jump location than originally anticipated.