Doc picked up his pace and strode off down the hallway, leaving the others behind. “Got it, Knight.”
As Doc pulled away, Nathen and Calico slowed to a stop between another set of doors. Calico watched Doc walk away, then turned to Nathen.
“Why did he just call you Knight?”
Nathen pondered her question, knowing it was bound to come up sooner or later.
“It’s a code name,” he said, knowing this was the beginning of her initiation into the true nature of an ESC. “Every Elite Stellar Commando has one. Mine’s Knight.” Nathen turned and pointed back toward the training room. “Kyler’s code name is Buckshot. Doc goes by Doc regardless. When we’re on mission, we refer to each other by code name only.”
Calico shook her head. “But why use code names at all?” she asked, confused. “What does it accomplish?”
Nathen sighed, crossing his arms. “It gives us anonymity. The point of the code name is to grant you freedom of action. An ESC has no rank, no superior or inferior rank relative to the standard chain of command. We are agents of action. No one can order you to tolerate injustice just because it isn’t our business. When the galaxy hesitates to do the right thing, we do it for them. So it’s more than just a title. When you accept a code name, you don a mindset. That mindset should be the mindset of an Elite Stellar Commando, who will stop at nothing to do what you have to do.”
Calico looked uncomfortable. “Sounds brutal, sir. No offense, but it sounds like the ESC’s are a little… lawless.”
Nathen looked past Calico, staring at a spot on the wall.
“Some things are held more sacred than laws.”
Calico looked up, apologetically. “I’m sorry sir. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to just understand,” explained Nathen. “What I’m talking about entails more than simple training and experience. I’m talking about what’s inside you. What your core self is.”
Calico tilted her head and scratched her ear, trying to follow Nathen’s thought process. Nathen saw he wasn’t getting through and bowed his head toward the floor, arms still crossed.
“You’re in enemy territory,” he began, slowly. “Deep, deep into enemy territory. You’ve got your objective, and you’ve got your teammates. You perform the mission, and even though the foes pitted against you are strong and terrible, you succeed. The mission’s done, so you fall back for extraction, constantly engaged by the enemy.”
Nathen closed his eyes, envisioning the scenario.
“There’s an ally who is running interference for your team. To buy you time to escape, he sacrifices himself and is captured by the enemy. You’re almost to the extraction point, and you’re almost out of time, but you can still see his face. He’s scared, and hurt, but alive as the enemy carries him away. He’s going to be tortured, slowly, for months, in petty revenge for what you did there that day. He’s going to die, alone and in agony, so that you can walk away.”
Nathen looked up, his brown eyes taking on the quality of cold steel.
“So what do you do? You’ve got no orders except your own; the choice is yours. When the chips are down, your time is up, and you’ve got no one but the divine God to judge your actions, what would you chose to do?”
Calico looked conflicted. After a long pause, she finally met Nathen’s eyes, gently shaking her head.
“I… I’m afraid I don’t know how to answer that.”
Nathen’s gaze softened and his arms unfolded from his chest. “That’s the blessing and the curse that ESC's carry. We have no excuses. We abide by what is right. If we do something wrong, we have no one to blame but ourselves. We have no orders to serve as justification. So we strive, as individuals and as a team, to always make the right choices.”
Calico was silent for a moment, then asked, “But how will I know what’s right?”
Nathen looked into her eyes and, it seemed, right into her soul. Pondering. How could he expect her to make the right decision when it was a question he could not answer himself? How would she know?
“In that moment you won't have to think about it. You’ll just do it.”
Nathen turned away, not wanting to talk about it anymore.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s finish the tour.”
Chapter 11
“What we have here are the team cabins. Four cabins, each houses two members comfortably. You’ll be in cabin three. Remember that later on when its time to settle in.”
“Got it,” Calico said.
Nathen glanced down the corridor to see how much farther they had to go. There wasn’t much left. There was the communications room, which was more of an extension of the bridge, the medical station, and probably the most extensively-guarded room on the entire ship, the armory. Nathen turned back to Calico.
“You following everything so far?”
Calico nodded. “I think so. Who else do I need to meet?”
Nathen was about to tell her when one of the cabin doors slid open. Nathen turned just as Jonathan Harper stepped out into the hallway, several paces behind them. Nathen rested his hands on his hips as he saw the stealth expert.
“Ah, Jonathan.”
Jonathan turned toward the sound of Nathen’s voice, fixing both him and Calico with an icy stare. Jonathan had an athletic yet slightly wiry physique and a head of untamed coal-black hair. He was wearing army fatigue cargo pants and a tight t-shirt. Wrapped across his chest was a harness similar to a double shoulder holster. Two combat knife hilts protruded from under his arms where they were within easy reach on either side. Holstered to his thighs was a brace of Sachlar nine-millimeters; like the knives, within easy reach.
“How is it every time you’re needed, you magically appear?”
Jonathan stepped over and stood before his two fellow ESCs, hands hanging by his sides, non-threateningly.
“It’s my job,” he said, his voice like a smooth growl. He turned his cold gaze to Calico, who tried not to shrink back from his gaze. “This the one?”
Nathen nodded. “That’s affirmative. Calico, this is Jonathan Harper, team Stealthist.”
Calico—growing accustomed to all the hand shaking—offered her hand. Jonathan eyed the hand with the expressionless demeanor of a snake, then started lifting his hand. In that instance, there was a glint of something black, scrawled across the back of his hand like a scar. Calico’s semi-enthusiastic mood was pushed back when she saw it. Jonathan’s hand hovered, gauging the girl’s reaction. Then, without explanation, the hand continued up, past her offered handshake, and folded across his chest where it stayed, covering up the ink.
“I know who she is. I heard you talking in the hallway.”
Calico withdrew her hand, wringing her fingers. Nathen noticed Calico’s withdrawn enthusiasm and hit Jonathan with an equally stolid stare.
“Someone spit in your instacoffee, Harper?”
Jonathan’s eyes flashed, but whatever emotion it represented was gone as soon as it surfaced, and the stealth expert let loose a heavy sigh.
“Nothing. It’s nothing, sir. Just got up on the wrong side of the bunk, that’s all.”
Nathen bit his lip, thinking of something else to say, but decided it would be best to let it go.
“New shipment’s in,” he said, raising an interested look from the stealthist. “Should have a case of those nice neurotoxin knives we used on that last mission. Can I count on you to check them all out?”
Jonathan’s eyes flashed again, this time with animalistic enthusiasm, and he grinned. At least Nathen thought he had grinned. Whatever passed over his face was gone as quickly has it had appeared.
“Just tell me how many crewmembers need a little blood flow test and I’ll get you a case of tested knives.”
Nathen frowned. “Maybe I need to rephrase that request.”
Jonathan turned and started down the hallway, uncrossing his arms as he went. “I’ll check them out when they are unpacked. For now, I’m heading down to the weapons ro
om.”
Nathen called after him. “When you get there, clean out the Denchura IV that’s there and reset the firing chamber.”
“What am I, your housekeeper?”
The stealth expert stepped into the lift and never looked back as the doors closed behind him. Calico stared at the doors for another moment, the cloud of uncertainty hanging around her head again.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Nathen shook his head. “No. Fiend has trouble trusting people. It’s common.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
Nathen sighed. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like anyone. His life prior to being an Alpha may have made him that way.”
Calico lifted her right hand up, turning the back of her hand toward Nathen. “On the back of his hand. I thought I saw something. It almost looked like…”
Nathen held a hand up and silenced Calico abruptly. “Don’t push the issue. He doesn’t appreciate me giving out information about his past. It’s best not to ask.”
Nathen turned away and walked down the hallway, closing the topic. Calico followed him until they came to the next room.
“Medical station,” Nathen explained. “If you need put back together after a mission, this is where you’ll end up.”
Calico started toward the door, but Nathen held out a hand and stopped her.
“This is where that code of secrecy I talked about earlier is going to come into effect,” he said. “Through that door is some of the most advanced, most expensive prototype medical equipment Humanity has ever developed. It will save your life when otherwise you’d be dead. You are never to disclose to anyone what we have here, am I clear?”
Calico nodded hurriedly. “I understand, sir. I can’t and won’t talk to anyone outside this ship about this ship or anything in it. Ever.”
Nathen lifted his hand and touched the door controls. “Alright, then.” The door slid aside and Nathen waved a hand to the open room. “After you.”
Calico stepped through the door with Nathen following. The medical station was everything Nathen had inferred, and more. There was of course the standard Navy shock trauma unit, the starship equivalent of an ER. Then there was an entire wall of state-of-the-art, fully functional stasis pods for stabilizing the critically wounded, commando or otherwise. But the real gem sat at the end of the room: the incredible, one-of-a-kind metabolism regenerator tank. That bulky tank had the ability to perform cellular surgery, replacing and rebuilding dead cells with new healthy ones in any time from hours to days. The room gave the impression of being every bit as capable, efficient and effective as a full, planet-based hospital, despite its compact size.
Off to one side, Trenton Baxter leaned casually against a gurney, arms crossed over his chest. The only other person in the room was an individual in a bleached white doctor’s coat, leaning over a microscope with his back to the door. Both individuals were lax, talking idly. However, the moment Nathen entered, the sniper pushed away from the gurney and saluted.
“Sir,” he said, respectfully. Nathen saluted back, more out of courtesy than requirement.
“At ease,” he said.
Trent relaxed a little, but didn’t move from his spot. Nathen motioned to Calico, standing next to him.
“Calico, I’d like to introduce you to Trenton Baxter. Best marksman you’ll ever find.”
Calico was apparently becoming more comfortable with the less-traditional environment, because on cue she extended her hand.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Trent accepted her hand. “The Commander flatters me, but I do my best to live up to everyone’s expectations. Keeps me sharp.” He looked over at Nathen. “Oh, by the way sir. I’d like permission to help unload the new merchandise when it arrives.”
Nathen nodded. “By all means. But first we have other business to attend to.” Nathen craned his neck at the back of the uniformed doctor, who was so focused on the microscope he hadn’t looked up when they’d entered.
“Doctor Cray,” Nathen said. “We have company.”
Nathen crossed his arms, watching the hunched figure expectantly. Then, reacting to his statement, a pair of pointed, almost rodent-like ears perked straight up from the doctor’s head. Nathen heard Calico gasp quietly. The uniformed figure cocked his head to the side, then slowly straightened up and swiveled in his chair. When he’d completed his turn, Nathen and Calico were staring at a full-grown male Serim. From the back, the doctor’s race hadn’t been immediately apparent. But once he’d turned around, there was no mistaking him as Serim. The alien’s stretched snout shuddered and his whiskers twitched first down, then up in a smile.
“Well there,” he said, in a clear Basic tenure. “Fresh blood. And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
Judging by the look on Calico’s face, Nathen guessed she hadn’t been expecting this. He stepped back mentally and considered the girl’s situation. She’d proven she could speak alien dialects. But just how many different races had she met firsthand? If nothing else, she seemed taken aback by the non-Human Doctor Cray. Nathen elbowed her gently and Calico’s slightly open mouth snapped closed.
“I’m, uhm, C-Calico Trast.”
The Serim doctor stared at the girl, instantly detecting her discomfort. Coolly, he reached over and picked up a pair of auto-adjusting bifocals and rested them on his nose.
“You seem a little off balance, Miss Trast,” Cray said, voice like silk. “Is something wrong?”
Calico cleared her throat by coughing into her hand. “Ah, no. I’m sorry. This is unprofessional of me.”
The Serim chuckled to himself, ears flapping back once. When the alien laughed, it was like a muffled puppy dog yapping.
“I’ve never met a speaker who didn’t stutter on occasion,” he said, adjusting the bifocals across his eyes, highlighting his intelligent stare. “If it’s a regular problem, I might have a prescription for it.”
Cray’s glassy eyes met Calico’s, and when the girl didn’t say anything, his whiskers bobbed up in a Serim smile.
“That’s just a joke, of course.”
Cray lifted himself off the swivel chair and rose to his full five and a half foot height; just about eye-to-eye with Calico. The Serim walked on two reverse-jointed legs over to Trent. His otter-like tail swung behind him, low to the ground for balance, barely noticeable beneath his long white doctor’s coat. Nathen looked down at Calico.
“Never seen a Serim before, huh?”
Calico shook her head, slowly. “Well… no, not in person. That’s not why I’m tongue tied, though.”
“What’s wrong then?”
“Forgive me sir, but I was under the assumption that this was an entirely Human operation. I didn’t think there would be, um…”
“Aliens?” offered Cray, one ear flicking; the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. Calico flinched and brushed a strand of red hair out of her eyes.
“Well, I sound so crass if I say it like that, but basically, yeah.”
“Normally, you’d be right,” Nathen said. “Doctor Cray here is an exception to the rule. He’s an official URH citizen.”
Calico blinked, surprised. “Official citizen? But… they don’t do that unless you’re Human.” She glanced over at the Serim. “Do they?”
“Times are changing,” stated Trent. “And the Serim have been our peaceful neighbors and allies for over five hundred years.”
“We’ve been your friends for that long,” emphasized Cray with a flat laugh. “The Human race has been instrumental in helping establish the Serim within the galactic community. Without your guidance, the Serim would still be stuck in our own system, with complete ignorance of the concepts of hyperspace travel, much less superluminal communications. Granted, we’re still a century or two behind your tech level, but we owe much to the Humans. And while many other races have questioned your motives in the past, I think both our species share a certain trust toward each other.”
“But how did you become a citize
n?” Calico asked, curiously. “It’s tough enough just for a Human to change planetary citizenship. How did you manage a racial one?”
Cray took a breath, smoothing his whiskers as his eyes lazily drooped closed. “I was born in the URH. Diligent, loyal, and a hard, hard worker. I attended Human schools, had Human friends, and for the most part lived a Human life up until I received my doctorate degree.”
“But… again. How did you earn a citizenship?”
“My contribution to the Human race earned it for me.” Cray turned and pointed a webbed finger at the regenerator that was the centerpiece of the medical bay. “I invented cellular surgery technology. It’s my creation.”
Calico blinked in surprise, looking up at Nathen. The commander nodded. “He gave it to Humanity. As a gift.”
“It’s one of the first times Serim technology has far surpassed Human technology,” Trent added. “Doctor Cray’s advancements in the fields of medicine have been revolutionary.”
“And you chose to give this to Humanity?” Calico asked, aghast.
Cray gave a humble nod. “It’s with Humans I was raised, educated, and lived. So it’s with Humans that I’ll serve.”
“Which explains your nearly flawless Basic,” Calico noted. “It’s amazing. Serim tongues aren’t like ours.”
“Early development and terrestrial linguistics training,” said Cray, sighing and adjusting his glasses. “I hear you have quite a talent for language yourself, Miss Trast.”
Calico shrugged, thoughtfully. “Something tells me I wouldn’t be here if there weren’t truth to that statement.”
Cray cocked his head at her, and his ears fluttered into a relaxed position. “So, with introductions aside, what do you think of our humble establishment?”
Calico glanced around the medical ward, and Nathen thought he could see a glint of excitement in her eyes.
“Humble somehow doesn’t seem the right word. ‘Marvelous’ might work better. This place is already making quite an impression on me. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a starship. It feels more like a… home.”
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 12