by J. N. Chaney
“I don’t know, Captain. Young Lex sent me a message from her data pad saying she would be staying with a friend from class. It’s not unusual for her to do so.”
“And?” The word came out harsh and Hitchens got even more nervous.
He continued. “When she didn’t show up to class, I thought maybe she wasn’t feeling well and Mrs. Rabe was taking care of her. By lunch I still hadn’t heard from her, so I decided to call on the Rabe household, but they said she never arrived. They didn’t even know she’d made plans to stay the night.”
I didn’t care for the stream of information he was feeding me. It sounded less like an abduction and more like a kid playing hooky. I’d done it enough to recognize the signs.
“No unusual activity from the soldiers?” Octavia questioned. She pressed her lips into a thin line and our eyes met. I had a pretty good feeling who she thought was responsible.
“None,” Hitchens replied. “I’ve checked myself, as have Leif and Karin. All Alliance soldiers have been accounted for and no vessels have left since your departure.”
I knew that was his way of telling us that he didn’t think our former enemies had done this. Abigail squeezed my hand tightly. She sent a shadowed glance my way and I saw the violent promise in them, along with the guilt. I had some too, over our last conversation with Lex. Could that have had something to do with her disappearance? More possibilities stampeded in my brain, but I forced it to quiet and think logically. “What’s been done to find her?”
Hitchens sat up a little straighter, clearly more at ease with this topic. “A search party ensued as soon as I could not locate her. I must confess that I wasted time checking your home, the cow pasture, and a few other of her favorite places before alerting anyone. Pumi is still in his pen. She never goes anywhere without that goat, Captain.” Guilt cracked Hitchens’ voice. I wanted to tell him everything would be fine, but I didn’t know that.
“What about the Celestials?” Abigail wondered. “A scout we missed?”
Karin materialized on the holo. “Our defense network would have picked up the ship with the adjustments we made.”
“Karin, you said she didn’t believe Lex was still on Earth,” I said to her. “Why?”
“We first attempted to track the child using the signal from her data pad, but it isn’t responding. Either the device isn’t on or it isn’t in range.”
“We have to go back then. What if she’s hurt?” asked Abigail. “Maybe her pad is broken and she can’t call for help.”
I’d been about to suggest the same thing, but thinking in line with Hitchens’ earlier comment about not showing up to school, I had to wonder. Could the girl have tried to walk off somewhere on her own and gotten injured? Maybe falling from a tree or accidentally dropping the pad in one of the many rivers and creeks around Verdun?
Octavia spoke gently. “Abby. You know we can’t do that. None of the ships besides Tartarus can open a rift of this magnitude, which means we’d have to turn Tartarus around. We’d all have to go back, and that’s impossible right now. We’d risk bringing the Celestials with us.”
Dressler and Alphonse arrived, both wearing their own version of worry. It didn’t escape my notice that they came together, and each was slightly out of sorts, as though they’d been in the middle of something. It wasn’t the time for jokes about their disheveled appearances, and I didn’t bother mentioning it.
“I don’t care,” Abigail snapped.
I had to admit that I understood her feelings. Getting the rest of the Alliance to fall in line over what they would likely view as a high risk mission would be difficult, if it came to that. I started thinking on ways to have that conversation with Vick and Major Sanchez. But even as I began to mull over how the conversation might go, I had to stop myself. Objectively, and as much as I hated to say so, Lex wasn’t worth risking the entirety of Earth, especially since we had no idea where she was or if she was actually in any danger. We needed answers before we dove into the fray. We needed—
“Captain Hughes,” Junior said again.
I stiffened at the sound of my name. “Junior, we’re in the middle of something. What is so godsdamn important that it can’t wait a few more minutes?” I was on my last nerve with the ship AI, who couldn’t seem to take a hint.
“It’s about the child you are discussing,” said Junior. “Lex, I believe her name is. She is in a healing pod at present.”
That stopped everyone—myself included—dead in our tracks and the room fell silent. I finally stopped pacing. “What did you just say?”
“The child you are looking for. I am detecting her in a healing pod,” he repeated.
Abigail tensed. I did too, for that matter, but Octavia spoke first. “Where?” she asked, quickly. “What pod? Are you saying she’s on—” The woman paused. “—that she’s on this ship?”
“My apologies,” replied Junior. “Yes, the girl is in here aboard the Renegade Star.”
“Lex is on the Star?” Abigail’s shocked tone mirrored what I was feeling internally.
“Yes, Miss Pryar. In the medical bay, pod number 2.”
Relief, shock, and a healthy dose of anger coursed through me all at once. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I spun on my heel and quickly marched out of the room, heading for the Star’s med bay.
“Jace, wait!” Abigail shouted as she raced to catch up to me. I felt her lay a hand on my arm.
I stopped, forcing myself to steady my breath. “Don’t worry, Abby. I’m not going to string the kid up by her toes or anything. You know, just because she stowed away on my ship.” I paused. “Again.”
The former nun nodded. “I know that, but we should talk to her together.”
“Fine,” I snapped.
Abigail gave me a sharp look, causing me to stop and take stock of the situation. I couldn’t storm into the medbay fully cocked and ready for a fight. “Alright, Abby,” I assured her, this time with more calm in my tone. “I’m fine.”
“It’s alright, Jace. Gods know I was scared too.” Since no one else was around, she put her arms around me and stood there for a few seconds. We both needed the short timeout to regain our faculties.
“That doesn’t mean she’s getting off easy,” I said.
Abigail laughed, the sound muffled by my chest. We untangled from the embrace and started toward the medbay at a less rigid pace.
“Definitely not.” Her forehead creased as though something had just occurred to her. “We’re going to need someone to stay with her at all times now. And do we let the rest of the Alliance know she’s here?”
“Not sure there’s much point in hiding it,” I told her. “I doubt anyone will care if she’s aboard.”
When we arrived, the door to the med bay quietly slid open. I half expected Junior to be wrong about the whole thing. A glitch in his program or something.
Of the two healing pods, the one closest to the door lay inert and in standby mode. The other one was closed, a green “in use” light illuminated on the side, signifying that it was indeed active.
We approached the pod quietly and came to a stop beside it. “Junior,” I muttered, staring down at the machine. “Open it up.”
“Right away, sir.”
The pod chirped once and slid open, revealing Lex’s sleeping form. Her knees were tucked up and the luggage case she’d been carrying was at her feet. Her white hair fanned out around her face, moving as she took gentle, slow breaths.
A low groan sounded, almost like a toad. It took me by surprise.
“Is she...snoring?” I asked.
Abigail had to stifle a giggle.
“It’s not funny,” I muttered.
“Oh, come on. It’s a little funny,” she replied.
Inside the pod, Lex stirred. Her lashes fluttered a few times and she yawned, then stretched out until her legs bumped the casing. As she blinked and slowly found her way to looking at us, the realization of the moment seemed to strike her all at once. �
�Oh, crap.”
“Oh, crap is right,” I said, keeping my voice low as I tried to hide my agitation with her.
“Lex, what were you thinking?” Abigail cut in.
She swung around, taking her time as she got her knobby legs over the side of the healing pod, and finally lowering her eyes as she stared at the floor. “Um…” Her voice was soft and almost inaudible. I recognized the regret and shame, and it killed me. “I’m sorry.”
“We almost turned around and went back to Earth,” I said. “The Celestials are following us right now. Do you know what that would have meant?”
She shook her head in a quick furtive motion and twisted her hands in her lap.
“We could have led them to Earth,” I explained. “It would have put everyone in danger. Hitchens, your friends, not to mention all the people on Tartarus.” I bit the words out, exorcising some of the dread that had built up over the last hour. They came out harsher than intended and I winced at Lex’s expression.
Was I being too stern with her, telling her the possible weight of her actions? I’d already decided not to return home, but she didn’t know that. What was I supposed to say right now? I wasn’t her father. I didn’t know how any of this was supposed to go. I had just wanted to take care of her and protect her, but I didn’t want to be the one giving the lecture. That was Abigail’s job.
Lex’s bottom lip jutted out and began to tremble, her pale blue eyes filling with tears. She squeezed them shut, causing the first drops to spill over and slide down her cheeks. The harder Lex tried to fight it, the more she eventually cried. “I’m… sorry, Mister… Hughes.” She had to pause between words to suck in a breath.
“Jace. You’re scaring her.” Abigail’s voice was hardly above a whisper, but her gaze held steady at the girl.
With conscious effort, I controlled my tone, but I wasn’t about to back down right now. She had to know I was serious. “She ought to be scared,” I said, looping a thumb through my belt, trying to pretend as though I wasn’t bothered by any of this. “Maybe if she had been, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Lex buried her face in her hands and cried in earnest, her small body wracked with silent sobs, and I felt my heart sink. With all the growing up she’d been doing lately, I’d forgotten how young she still was. Just a kid who’d made a stupid decision. Gods knew when I was her age, I had made my fair share of them. She looked so damn pathetic and contrite that I just wanted to tell her it was fine and to forget about the whole thing.
Abigail motioned at her, almost to suggest that we’d let it go far enough.
I sighed, then knelt in front of Lex and put a hand on her shoulder. “Lex!” I barked, startling her. She jerked upright and stared at me with red rimmed eyes. “That’s enough of that.”
“Jace!” snapped Abigail.
I ignored her warning and leveled my gaze on the girl in front of me. The tears had stalled out, either having run their course or scared into hiding from my abrupt command. “Got your attention, yeah?” I asked.
She nodded quickly, letting a few loose tears shake free from her eyes.
“Good,” I said, keeping my eyes locked with hers. “Crying won’t fix what you did. It never does.”
“I-I know,” she muttered.
“Do you?” I asked. “Then what are you going to do to fix this? Besides just sit there and feel sorry for yourself?”
“I’ll do what—” she paused. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll, um, clean or I’ll go home. I won’t do it again, I swear.”
I shook my head. “We can’t take you home anymore. That option has expired.”
This was a problem. No way did I want the girl on Tartarus, not with the Celestials potentially trailing behind us. We had no way of knowing whether they were on our tail or if we’d managed to fool them. In either case, I didn’t want Lex in any danger.
“Does that mean I get to stay?” asked Lex.
“Yeah, I guess it does,” I said. “But don’t think this is play time, Lex. I’m going to have Dr. Hitchens send along all of your schoolwork. In order to make it up to everyone, you’re going to hunker down in our room and do nothing else. Abigail’s going to come up with a list of chores, too.”
“I am?” asked Abigail.
“Yeah, I guess you’re too busy to handle that,” I said, relenting. “Well, you’re going to be on the Star regardless, Lex,” I continued, ticking it off on my finger. “If you leave, someone has to be with you. No exceptions, got it?”
“Okay,” she said with a quick nod. The edge of her mouth began to perk up and into a grin, but she suppressed it.
“Lex, why don’t you get your things together and we’ll go to the room,” said Abigail. As the girl did what she was told, Abigail cocked her head to the side, indicating we should step away.
“What is it?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“With everything going on, we don’t have a lot of time between the two of us,” she began, glancing at Lex. “We’ll have to come up with a schedule and ask the others to help us out.”
I stopped her by holding up a hand. “Whoa, slow down. That’s already too complicated. I was thinking more like one person.”
She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Who did you have in mind?”
“Shaw,” I replied simply. “He seems to have a handle on her, and he isn’t really doing much these days besides providing insight on the Union. It should work out and I doubt he’d complain.”
“Huh,” was all she said at first, letting the idea hang in the air.
“That’s a great idea, Mr. Hughes.” Lex rolled her case over and smiled up at us. “Mr. Shaw is really nice to me.”
“Is that right?” I asked, leering up at Abigail as I bent toward Lex. “Well, I guess that settles it, so long as the Admiral is willing. Why don’t we go and have ourselves a chat with the old man?”
6
While Abigail got Lex situated with Shaw, I went to the Boneyard to check on the progress with the transportation room and the Celestial ships that our teams were working on modifying. Most of our available technicians and engineers had been given this assignment. From what I could see, this had to be the most concentrated area of Tartarus. The hum of overlapping voices, machines, and general movement filled the air as the various Alliance personnel worked away through all hours of the day and night.
I was pleased to see that their progress had moved beyond just ripping out Celestial furnishings from the ship interiors.
Several crews wore welding masks, sparks flying from their tools as they worked on the Celestial craft, both inside and out. Dressler had partnered with Sigmond, Carl, and Davon to modify the technology so it was capable of human control. We’d even been able to modify some of them with old Earth technology that incorporated our tattoos, allowing for instant commands and faster maneuverability. The best manual pilots still couldn’t compete with the reaction time of any of our people in one of our strike ships. The ability to send instant commands made everything faster, and if we could get that technology into these Celestial ships, we’d stand an even better chance at winning this war.
At present, the tattoos were the only source of contention between members of the Alliance. Vick had come a long way, but his superiors were pushing for access to the technology that gave me and my crew the ability to interact with ancient Earth artifacts. Of course, I’d flat out refused on that count. Alliance or not, I wasn’t about to give away one of our most precious secrets. I held no illusion that once the Celestials had been dealt with this would become their main focus. It wasn’t something to worry about now, however.
I’d instructed that all material be reworked or used in some way, something that Vick and Sanchez had wholeheartedly agreed with. From the looks of things, our people were doing just that. Neat rows of chairs that would soon be installed in cockpits and on bridges stood in a cleared out section of the hangar. The final product had all the basic Celestial trademarks on the exterior hulls, but with
undeniable human touches inside.
Satisfied with all that I’d seen, I made my way to the transportation room.
Inside, a lone Eternal engineer stood at the main computer, studying the screen. Oscar looked up when I walked in and raised a hand in greeting. A familiar aroma hit my nostrils, stopping me in my tracks. I breathed deep, scenting the air like an attack dog.
“Where is it?” I demanded.
Perplexed, he searched around for whatever I could have been referencing. “Did you leave something in here?”
“No,” I said, turning in a circle. “I’m talking about the coffee. It’s here. I can smell it.”
“Oh. That.” Oscar made a face and pointed behind me. There was a to-go cup sitting on the table, still steaming. “You can have it. They keep bringing it but I can’t stand the stuff.”
I wanted to reach over and smack him across the jaw for sacrilege, but I let it go and focused on what mattered. “You don’t mind?” I asked.
“Have at it, Captain. I won’t drink it.”
I snatched the coffee and took a greedy sip, not caring that it burned my throat on the way down.
Oscar watched me with a mixture of amazement and what seemed to be a bit of fear. “It’s too bitter,” he finally said. “And I hear it’s addictive.”
I wiped some dribble from my chin and set the empty cup down. “I can quit anytime I want.”
After taking another drag from the cup, I focused on Oscar. Unlike many of the other Eternals, he’d opted for a modern crew cut. It made me think of my first encounter with Petra. I’d been surprised to see her wearing makeup, but similar to Oscar, she was adopting some of her newfound culture.
Like every one of the new additions to our population, Oscar had supplied his experience and been assigned based on his aptitude. Turned out that the man had a head for programming and computer repairs. Though he had yet to fix the transporter, he came highly recommended by Karin, and I trusted her opinion implicitly. The best he’d been able to do was restore power. That was just as well. I wanted to have a good handle on how the thing worked before we turned it back on.