by C. C. Ekeke
“What do you need, Nwosu?” Iort inquired. Habraum then laid out his specific requirements, mainly which Farooqua tribes to include and a request for help with searching for Cortes and Byzlar. Fifteen macroms later, Habraum got most of what he wanted.
Upon returning to Phaeton, Khal and Tyris were waiting for Habraum with varying looks of shock.
“There’s another you in there,” Khal said, bafflement dominating his handsome features.
“I know,” Habraum sighed. The rest of CT-1 gathered around. Cortes’s absence was a gaping wound. Gods, we need to find her.
“What’s the word?” Tyris asked.
“Our plan’s a go.”
Khrome’s golden eyes sparkled excitedly. “Now what?”
“UComm is sending Ghuj’aega to a megamax on Faroor as we speak,” Habraum replied. “Tyris and V’Korram, coordinate with UComm to connect with every Farooqua tribal nation. All except the Quud.”
V’Korram and Tyris went off together. Habraum’s eyes lingered on Tyris’s slight limp an instant longer before facing Khal. “You bonded with Taorr, yea?”
Khal gave him an odd look. “I…guess so, sir.”
“Find Taorr. Have him reach out to Mhir’ujiid,” Habraum ordered. “We need to connect with her father about depowering Ghuj’aega.”
The telekinetic smiled confidently. “On it.”
Habraum watched him go. Khal was coming across as more agreeable, less smarmy. Good, the Cerc noted. Field operations humble you quickly.
“Khrome and Maggie. Keep searching for Lily and Specialist Byzlar.” The Cerc gestured at the Thulican and Cybernarr respectively. “Coordinate with the UComm teams searching for them. I also want eyes on our guest. If he gets too familiar, remind him of his surroundings.”
“Understood.” Marguliese nodded.
“Will do,” Khrome added. “What about you?”
Habraum sighed, noticing the exhaustion crashing onto him from all angles. “A shower and a meal.”
Later, after eating and cleaning up, Habraum called his son and fortunately got him in one try. Jeremy was bouncing up and down when he called. He had received Habraum’s holovid from Quud territory and couldn’t wait to visit Faroor one day.
“Faroor comes after the other places I told ya about,” he promised, careful to not disrupt his son’s enthusiasm. Faroor was a hotbed of racial divide he didn’t want Jeremy anywhere near yet. Still, this call was exactly what the Cerc needed. Hopefully having two combat teams would allow him more time with this wonderful boy. He needed to be more present for his son. He had promised this on Jennica’s grave, and was not honoring that vow.
“We’re going to World’s End in San Andreas,” Jeremy explained, hazel-grey eyes alight with anticipation. The theme park, located all over Union Space, depicted apocalyptic scenarios specific to their planetary location. Habraum had a feeling Jeremy had charmed the Hoangs into taking him. Clever boy.
He didn’t hide his displeasure at that. The boy had been suspended for fighting at school, not for scoring top-grade marks. But given how close Habraum had come to death—again—a lecture could wait until seeing his boy in the flesh again. “You’re behaving for your grandparents, yea?”
Jeremy nodded soberly. “I miss you, Daddy.”
Habraum’s heart cracked open. He closed his eyes for a moment to keep his composure. “Miss you more, sprout,” he said softly. “Have fun and get on all the best rides.”
After the viewscreen went blank, Habraum went through three messages from Sam. Her latest transmission after his check-in had been particularly angered…and colorful.
She’s scared witless for Cortes. Habraum winced. He felt the same, hoping against all hope to find his missing medic. But the orvs bled away with no sign anywhere on Faroor, causing that hope to waver. A prayer to the Sacred Gemini offered the Cerc some solace, but not much.
If Cortes was lost, what else could Habraum’s “other self” be lying about?
“Other self,” he snorted. Despite having an identical twin brother, Habraum couldn’t get past how absurd an alternate universe version of himself was. “How do I explain that to Sam, let alone the UComm upper crust?”
All Habraum wanted right now was to talk with Samantha, ease her fears, and for her to do the same. So much needed saying between these two longtime friends. And lovers.
But with the turmoil consuming this Faroor mission, and the uncertainty around their relationship, Habraum had no clue where to start.
“Best start somewhere.” Habraum steeled himself with a deep breath, about to contact Sam.
A soft chirp grabbed his attention. He glanced at the sender ID and his heart warmed. Or was it relief at not having to deal with Sam yet? The Cerc answered. “Hiyoo.”
“Captain Nwosu.” Addison Raichoudry appeared on his screen. Her tank top and sweatpants were in her customary black, her dark hair pulled back tight except for her blunt bangs. She glowed at the sight of Habraum. “Did you get my messages?” The urgency in her curt voice was evident. And concerning.
“All five? Yes.” Habraum’s smile dimmed. “Also got your status reports on the CoE operation.” He remained calm despite the unease her call caused. “I haven’t gotten to them yet. Something wrong?”
“Very.” She nodded eagerly, arms folded behind her back. “I want a transfer off CT-2.”
Habraum was surprised for all of two nanoclics. “What happened?”
“Captain D’Urso has it out for me,” Addison complained. Her eyebrows, full and immaculately shaped, furrowed in anger. “Never lets me work alone. Always talks to me like a child, looking at me sideways. Her compliments are said begrudgingly. She doesn’t trust me.”
The acrimony between Raichoudry and Sam was no secret. Habraum had been hoping it would subside by now. Clearly not. Despite everything going on with Ghuj’aega and Cortes, Habraum was thankful for the distraction. He motioned for Addison to continue.
“Two days ago, she questioned my intelligence.” The memory clearly rankled Raichoudry. “Me!”
Habraum almost laughed. Knowing Sam, he believed that. “Did you provoke her?”
Addison’s pursed lips spoke volumes. “I merely pointed out where her leadership needed improvement,” she replied innocently, looking anywhere but at Habraum.
Habraum didn’t like where this discussion was headed. “Because you’ve led how many combat teams?” That shut Raichoudry up.
“Can you honestly say you’ve been the perfect subordinate?”
“How can I emulate a commanding officer so crude, off the cuff, and—”
“Addison,” Habraum snapped. She flinched. “Answer me.” The Cerc allowed her more leeway than other subordinates, but Habraum wouldn’t have her personally ridicule Sam.
Addison’s features softened. “No.” The tech always fiddled with her hands when lacking a task for them. Or when guilty of bad behavior. “This wouldn’t be the case if I were on CT-1,” she muttered sullenly.
Habraum’s mood plummeted further. “We talked about this.”
“We didn’t talk. You ordered,” she pouted.
“The perk of being Brigadier Executive Officer,” Habraum threw back evenly. “You remain on CT-2 and Captain D’Urso is your commanding officer. No one’s saying you have to like her.” He glared a hole into her through the viewscreen. “But you will respect her authority. Got me?”
Addison met his gaze, blushed, and looked down. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll be a good girl, yea?”
“Yes, sir,” Addison said, numb and dejected.
Raichoudry joining CT-2 had been more than Habraum wanting a pair of eyes inside. The gossip generated by his mentoring Addison, rumors of favoritism, and even a secret affair would grow worse if she served on CT-1.
Scolding Addison again wouldn’t help. Habraum sighed and went with a softer approach. “Can Samantha be difficult? Certainly. But she is one of the finest Star Brigadiers I’ve ever served with. I would gladly give my lif
e for hers. And she’d do the same for any Brigadier under her command. There is so much you can learn from her. But you have to be open and willing.”
“I’ll…do better, sir,” Addison said hastily. “I promise.”
Hearing that was enough for Habraum. Addison would do as ordered. He then asked about CT-2’s first field op. The Cerc had skimmed over Sam’s mission report, pleased at how well the mission had gone.
“CT-2 worked well together, despite past issues. Captain D’Urso did decently.” A ghost of a smile then appeared on Addison’s lips. “I used the visor.”
Habraum stared at her blankly. “What visor?”
Addison rolled her eyes at his obliviousness. “The visor I modified to honor Captain Ivers, remember?”
He stiffened. “Righ’.” Jovian Ivers, Addison’s previous mentor in Star Brigade. Jovian Ivers, Habraum’s former colleague whom he’d seen alive…and seen die again.
The memory reopened the raw wounds of Beridaas. Habraum swallowed his pain and smiled. “Ivers would be proud,” he said quietly.
That coaxed a giggle from her. “I hope so.” Addison, with her sharp, angular features, didn’t smile easily. But whenever she did, Raichoudry’s delight revealed dimpled cheeks and undeniable beauty.
Because of me? Habraum felt his stomach lurch, knowing the answer. Bring it back to business. “Anything else?”
“One more thing.” Addison’s smile faded, like a sunny day clouding over. “Did you tell Captain D’Urso about…Cobalt?”
Habraum looked her over, surprised. “Rogguts, of course not.” The reminder reopened another lesser wound. A few months back during CT-2’s weeklong training on Cobalt Waystation, Addison had clumsily tried to seduce Habraum. The Cerc had killed the attempt in its crib. Apparently she’d misread his extra attention as amorous regard, which Habraum made strides to correct in their future interactions. He had logged the incident in Raichoudry’s file in a section only he could access.
“I told no one in Star Brigade,” Habraum concluded. He had told his childhood friend Rukh, in AeroFleet, regretting even that disclosure.
Addison frowned, glancing away at something off-screen. “Then why would…?” She did a double take, eyes bulging. “Oh my God.”
Habraum’s concern drew him closer to the viewscreen. “What is it? Whoa!” The tremor began with a distant boom before everything shook with savage potency. Habraum nearly slid out of his bed when the whole room slid right, then left, and then right.
In his shock, the Cerc classified this as the worst skyquake he’d experienced yet.
The quake dwindled enough for him to lurch upright. “Gotta go, Addie.”
“Me too,” Addison replied, the color drained from her coppery complexion.
Habraum would have pushed further if the whole world weren’t shaking to pieces. “We finish this later.” He ended the transmission and marched from his quarters, barely staying upright while stumbling through the Phaeton’s corridors.
“What the hazik happened?” Habraum demanded when he reached Phaeton’s bridge.
Khrome, Khal, and Marguliese were clinging to various consoles or chairs to stay upright. The trio glanced at him briefly before looking back at whatever happened on the viewscreen.
“The UComm dropship carrying Ghuj’aega,” Khal muttered, pointing at the screen.
Habraum saw nothing but roiling plumes of flame in midair. Bright lightning lanced through the firestorm from all sides. “What about it?” the Cerc said, right as the realization struck and his jaw hit the floor. He already knew what Khal was about to say. But his mind refused to accept it.
Marguliese, however, continued in her usual detached fashion. “Several bolts of lightning struck the vessel carrying Ghuj’aega.”
Exactly what Star Brigade wanted to prevent. Habraum watched dark, fiery clouds consume what remained of the UComm shuttle, his battle plan burning up with it. Only two words came to mind. “Skyfather’s cock!”
Chapter 20
Khal couldn’t find Taorr anywhere on Magnasterium. No matter where he looked, what avenues he tried, com channels, holovid surveillance, DNA tracing, the Ttaunz heir had vanished. Khal couldn’t return empty-handed to Captain Nwosu. So he had tapped one last source.
In the solitude of his cramped quarters, the human greeted Zojje’s life-sized 3D holo. The Kudoban diplomat looked good in his white and green robes, healthier since Khal saw him two days ago. Two days? Lack of sleep had caused the days to bleed together.
Khal usually avoided bludgeoning a contact for answers immediately. He buttered them up first, pretending to care. However, with someone as selfless as Zojje, pretending wasn’t necessary.
“You getting a replacement?” Khal asked, pointing at the spindly stump where Zojje’s left elbow once was. “Or wearing it like a badge of honor?” Khal knew battle scars were female magnets, but had no interest in losing a limb.
Zojje raised his stump, eyeing it with intense milky white eyes. “I’m having a synthetic fitted as we speak.” Zojje lowered his arm. “Once it’s ready, I shall return to my work in the Farooqua tribal lands.”
Khal’s jaw dropped. “You’re going back?” No way would he go back to field diplomacy after getting his arm hacked off by a terrorist and then eaten by another prisoner. But that’s probably why God didn’t make Khal a Kudoban.
Zojje smiled. “My captivity convinced me more than ever how much work still needs to be done.”
Khal nodded, full of respect for this Kudoban. “Good luck.” This had been the perfect segue. “Speaking of your work. Have you seen Taorr? Can’t locate him anywhere in Magnasterium.”
Zojje’s childlike features sobered. “Me neither. And we are not alone in our search.”
Khal gulped. Meaning the Ttaunz Defense Force was searching for him too.
That love-struck kid better not do anything stupid, Khal fumed, remembering his advice to Taorr. Thanks to his psychic training, he hid that from Zojje. “If you find him first, please let me know.”
Zojje smiled courteously. “Of course. And if you find him first—”
A massive shudder cut the transmission off, throwing Khal off his bed. “What the—” He scrambled to his feet and faced Zojje, whose image was staticky due to the interruption. “I gotta—”
“Go,” Zojje finished. “I’ll be in touch.” Their transmission ended there.
Khal sprinted from his quarters to the bridge, finding Marguliese and Khrome already there.
Before he could even ask what happened, the Phaeton’s mainscreen told him everything.
Huge midair explosion, probably a shuttle. But the reactions on Khrome and Marguliese’s faces cratered Khal’s chest. That shuttle was carrying Ghuj’aega.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, slowly approaching his teammates. “How?”
Captain Nwosu came rushing in mere moments afterward.
Staring at the smoldering clouds onscreen, Khal gave a brief, dazed summation of what he knew. To his shock, he was hoping Ghuj’aega had survived.
“By the Spheres,” Khrome exclaimed. “What else can go wrong?”
Immediately, a thick, blinding beam of light shot skyward from the eruption, lancing through the clouds until it vanished from sight.
Moments later, a plethora of lightning strikes rained down from the heavens. And Faroor’s moon, Qos, the Zenith Point, again outshone the sun with burning and sinister radiance until the heavens turned white as snow.
For the silent moments that followed, Khal couldn’t grasp what he’d just seen.
“I estimate,” Marguliese said, eyebrow arched. “Ghuj’aega has merged with the Zenith Point.”
Captain Nwosu’s eyes widened as his attention landed on Marguliese. He looked ready to protest, but shut his mouth.
Soon, a flood of transmissions hurtled between Star Brigade, UComm, and the Ttaunz Defense Force.
“How did this happen? We had him secured,” Iort barked, his sideways mouth clamping and unclamping angri
ly on a smaller viewscreen.
“Was it sabotage?” the baby-faced Defense Minister Jaoffa demanded on another.
“Did one of the Ghebrekh sneak on?” asked a Rhomeran UComm official with blubbery waddles for facial features.
Khal watched Captain Nwosu remain rock-solid during the whole conference. Despite the wild accusations each side hurled at each other, the crimsonborn stayed calm, arms folded behind his back with a dominant wide-legged stance that took up so much space. He evenly parried any blame tossed Star Brigade’s way.
Khal sat at his workstation, impressed. That’s how I’ll handle shit situations once I reach Nwosu’s level.
“We won’t know anything until we access that dropship’s holovid feed,” Nwosu spoke over the TDF and UComm’s useless prattle. “Our concern still is the massive moon that’s not a moon.”
“If it’s not a moon, then what is it, Nwosu?” Jaoffa demanded.
On Phaeton’s bridge, V’Korram gave a low growl.
The Cerc silenced his recon with a glance. “Not sure yet.”
Khal knew that wasn’t entirely true. But Nwosu still didn’t seem convinced by his alternate universe twin’s claim that Faroor’s moon was a space-time nexus. Neither did Khal. What a load of jetsam. Then again, how could anyone explain the appearance of another Captain Nwosu? Or how Khrome had gotten thrown four orvs into the past? Or Cortes’s baffling disappearance?
Captain Nwosu must have addressed a dozen more UComm and TDF officials until they finally accessed that dropship’s internal footage. Khrome scrubbed straight to where Ghuj’aega was transferred onboard.
“They didn’t muzzle him,” were Nwosu’s first words. CT-1, minus Liliana Cortes, watched a viewscreen displaying internal holovid footage of a restrained Ghuj’aega macroms before it exploded.
The Farooqua, bound at legs and arms, sat in a cell watched by a UComm security guard from Galdor.
“How is it…knowing that the terrorist who killed your family gets treated better than you? Because of a plea deal to give up his associates?” Ghuj’aega’s oily, spiteful voice filled the Phaeton’s bridge. Khal fought back a shudder.