by Joe Vasicek
It’s a shame, Mara thought as she briefed herself on the latest political developments that could affect their mission. We’re spending all our resources to fight a war that we’re almost certainly going to lose, instead of investing in our future.
“Commander?” came a voice behind her. It was Mathusael. “Hey, Mara, what are you still doing aboard?”
She sighed and turned away from the command center terminal to face him. I should have known better than to do my work on the same deck as the docking node, she thought to herself. Next time, I’ll take my work to my quarters.
“Is there a problem, Chief?”
“The only problem I see is you working on your R&R time. There’s a shuttle leaving for the surface in half an hour, and a bunch of us are going down to find a decent bar. Why don’t you come with us? The first round’s on me.”
Mara didn’t know much about military life beyond her time in Fourth Platoon, but she doubted it was a good idea for commanding officers to get too casual with those they were supposed to command. Still, snubbing his offer would make it difficult to work together in the future, and with the Merope-7 at port, she didn’t have a good excuse for staying on the ship.
“Is the captain coming with you?”
“You mean Aaron? No, he’s busy meeting with High Command. I’m sure he’ll brief us on it when he gets back.”
So he isn’t skipping out to join us, Mara thought. That was a relief. It would be awkward if she went only to find him there, shirking his duties as captain to join his friends. Perhaps he was learning to take responsibility after all.
“All right, Chief. If you twist my arm…”
Mathusael laughed and patted her back good-naturedly. “That’s the spirit. And please, call me Mathusael.”
“If you say so.” She shrugged and followed him through the airlock onto the station.
“You’re new to this command thing, aren’t you?”
“Is it really that obvious?”
“Only because you’re not the only one,” he said, leading her up the main rimside corridor toward the nearest concourse. The trams there led up to the central station hub, where the shuttles departed. With all the bustling activity on the station, the shuttles were doing double duty. The crowd was so thick, Mara had to walk behind Mathusael instead of beside him.
“The captain and I were in the Flotilla together during the first campaign of the war,” she said, switching to Deltan to preserve at least some degree of privacy. “I was a sergeant in one of the platoons assigned to the Aegis, and he was our drop-ship pilot.”
“So I’ve heard. He’s come a long way, from star wanderer to frigate captain.”
“We’ve all come a long way from who we were before.” Not all in good ways, either.
“Fair enough, fair enough,” he said as they boarded the tram. All but two rear-facing seats were taken. They sat and pulled down the bulky shoulder restraints from the ceiling, fastening themselves in.
ENTERING LOW GRAVITY ZONE, the screen at the front of the car flashed as the tram began to move. It brought back memories of other trams Mara had ridden, on far-off stations her father had taken them to after leaving as refugees from their famine-stricken home. Life had been a struggle, but somehow they’d managed to stay together through all the hardships of refugee life. Then his death had shattered her world forever.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” Mathusael said in a hushed voice. “He was a good man, and a very close friend.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I left Megiddo Station years before the food crisis. You could say I didn’t really fit in there. But your father was very kind to me. I guess we were kindred spirits of a sort. He was one of the only reasons I regretted leaving. Now, I regret it more.”
Mara frowned and looked over at him. “Wait a minute—I think I remember you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You were one of his writer friends he invited over to dinner from time to time. You didn’t have a beard back then, though.”
Mathusael chuckled. “That’s right. Social proprieties on Megiddo Station being what they were, I didn’t acquire this luscious facial accessory until after I left.”
The tram turned upward and begat to accelerate, pushing them against their shoulder restraints. For a few moments, it felt as if they were dangling face down, with nothing but the restraints to keep them from falling the length of the tram. The sensation soon passed, though. As they reached cruising speeds and ascended further from the rim of the station wheel, it felt less like they were dangling and more like they were floating up through a deep pool.
“Did my father ever try to marry me off to you?”
The question surprised them both. Mara’s cheeks reddened, but she couldn’t take it back, so she decided to go through with it.
“What?” said Mathusael. He made such a bizarre look of disgust that for several moments, she didn’t know what to say.
“I mean, you were over so often, surely—”
“No, he didn’t. That was a big reason why we got along so well.”
Would it really have been that bad if he had set us up? Mara almost asked. Instead, she held her tongue.
“I left because of all the pressure to get married and start a family,” Mathusael explained. “Back there, if you were twenty-five standard years and unmarried, you were either a menace or a failure.”
“Oh, come on,” said Mara, rolling her eyes. “Maybe it was like that for the girls, but surely not for the guys.”
“No, it really was. And I was sick of it. So in my late twenties, I hitched a ride on a passing starship and never looked back.”
“So you never married?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. After a few years, I decided I’d had enough starfaring. Found myself a nice woman in the Esperanzia system and settled down, just like the folks back home expected me to. But I had to see the stars first, and they never did respect that.”
“I see.”
Several moments passed in silence. The hum of the tram as it passed through the tube was the only sound between them.
“Forgive me,” Mara said. “I didn’t mean to get so personal.”
“Hey, it’s all right,” said Mathusael. “I’m not angry. Though I have to wonder, do you wish your father had set you up with me?”
She gave him a good, long look. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I don’t know you well enough.”
“But you wish he’d married you off to someone, right?”
“I suppose,” she sighed. Now that the questions were about her, it was her turn to feel uncomfortable.
“That’s the way things were back home,” Mathusael continued. “A woman’s purpose in life was to get married and start a family. What was that saying? ‘A strong family shines brighter than all the stars.’”
“There are worse things to live for,” she muttered under her breath.
“So it’s true, then—you do wish he’d married you off.”
“All I’m saying is that I’d be a hell of a lot happier as a wife and a mother than I am as a soldier in this war.”
His question made her wonder, though: Would she have been happier? Or was she just speaking from a place of regret? Back home, she hadn’t felt much of a drive to settle down and start a family. She could sympathize with the restlessness that had driven Mathusael away. But if the war had never happened—if the famine had never driven them out, or if the Imperials had never killed her father—she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in today. When she thought of the life she could have lived, had none of this happened, a part of her couldn’t help but yearn for it. Surrounded by family, at least she would never have felt alone.
“Somehow I doubt that,” said Mathusael. “You don’t seem to me like the homemaking type.”
His words stung her more than she was prepared to admit. She took a deep breath.
“I’ve got to be straight with you, Chief. I only
signed up for this war to avenge my father’s death. I never thought it would consume my life the way it has.”
“How did he die?”
“Imperial firing squad,” she said flatly. “After the famine at Megiddo Station, we fled as refugees to the Bacca system. We were there when the Imperials took over. The colonists protested hard against the occupation, and after a particularly nasty riot, the Imperials rounded a bunch of them up and had them shot. My father was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mathusael said softly. “Really, I am.”
“I don’t doubt that, Chief.”
“Then you’ll accept my apology for being hard on you?”
She glanced at him and narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it makes us even. No hard feelings, if that’s what you mean.”
The tram slowed, pushing them up against their seat backs. Out the windows on either side, the narrow station wheels stretched from one end of the view to the other. The planet was out of view, but the stars shone like crystalline points on velvet, showing that they were on the night side of the world. It was a beautiful sight, but Mara didn’t feel like dwelling on it.
“I could use a stiff drink,” she said. “When is that ferry shuttle supposed to leave?”
Mathusael grinned. “Not soon enough.”
* * * * *
Aaron tried very hard not to feel like an imposter as he stepped into the main briefing room. The place was packed, with only standing room left in the rear. The crisp, white uniforms bore the insignia of captains, commanders, and admirals. He caught a glimpse of Major Achilles on the front row, with Admiral Tully sitting next to him. It felt strange to have so many high-ranking officers in the audience, but considering how High Command itself had ordered the briefing, it was to be expected.
“Attention, please,” said the speaker at the front, a middle-aged man in an intelligence officer’s gray uniform. Aaron wasn’t familiar with the insignia, but it was safe to assume he was near the top of the organization.
The room immediately came to order. All eyes turned to the speaker.
“I am Colonel Romanov of fleet intelligence. High Command has called this general briefing so that I can bring you up to speed. After that, we will give you your assignments.”
It’s a good thing I used the neural stimulator before coming here, Aaron thought to himself. With the colonel’s thick accent, the words would have passed right over his head otherwise. Mara said he didn’t need it, but that simply wasn’t true. He needed it now more than ever.
As the colonel laid out the starmap on the holo-projector he wondered what he should tell her when he got back to the ship. He’d tried to keep it a secret from her, but now that she knew he was using, he would have to address her concerns. Or would he? She wasn’t his commanding officer anymore; she couldn’t just order him to stop. Maybe if he was discreet enough, she would drop the issue on her own.
“After the Battle of Colkhia,” Colonel Romanov explained, “the remnants of the Imperial expeditionary force retreated in disarray. Our agents followed them as far as Esperanzia before letting them go.”
He tapped his keypad, and the starmap rotated and panned to a familiar cluster of stars. Aaron recognized it right away as the Oriana Cluster.
“Five standard weeks ago,” Romanov continued, “we detected some major jumpspace activity in the vicinity of Alpha Oriana.” Three red arrows flashed into existence, on the Coreward side of the star cluster. “We believe that a major Imperial force is headed toward us from that direction. We don’t know the exact disposition of their forces, but we suspect them to be at least five times as great as the expeditionary force that invaded the frontier stars.”
The room buzzed with nervous energy. Colonel Romanov waited for the noise to settle down.
“We followed them up to a brown dwarf star about fifteen parsecs from Colkhia, at which point they began to aggressively screen their movements. We suspect that their force has split into two main battle fleets, but we do not have any reliable intelligence on either fleet’s location.”
“What are their targets?” someone asked.
“Unknown,” Romanov answered. “Presumably, their objective is to crush the Resistance and consolidate the New Pleiades under their rule, but we do not know where they’ll strike first.”
One of the chief admirals sitting behind the colonel rose to his feet. Colonel Romanov nodded and deferred to him.
“High Command has determined that our best course of action is to fight defensively, rather than offensively,” the admiral explained. “The Imperials may outnumber and outgun us, but with the jump beacon network established throughout the New Pleiades, we can concentrate our forces quickly enough to give us an advantage. We can also defend a much wider area of space than the Imperials realize.”
Major Achilles raised his hand. “With all due respect, Admiral Ulysses, we’ve used the jump beacons offensively before. Why not do it again?”
“After the Battle of Colkhia, we decided to scale back our use of such tactics. The jump beacon network is much more reliable, and we cannot afford to let this technology fall into enemy hands.”
Aaron’s heart fell. He’s talking about my brother, he realized. When Isaac had failed to activate the jump beacon on the enemy’s position, it had thrown the Flotilla into chaos. No wonder High Command didn’t want to try that again.
“In the meantime,” Admiral Ulysses said, “we will deploy our forces across every possible point of attack. You will each be receiving your assignment in the next few days, and some of them may surprise you. However, each assignment represents a possible strategic flashpoint that could easily become an invasion route.”
When the fighting starts, I won’t be able to look for my brother, Aaron realized. This may be my last real chance to find him. God knows what a mess this sector will be after the war.
“We’ve fought off the Imperials once, my friends,” Ulysses continued. “But they’re coming back, and this time they’ll be in force. I expect all of you to put forward everything you have, because it will take nothing less for us to win this war. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!” the room echoed. But Aaron was too busy thinking about his brother to answer.
* * * * *
The space under the dome was wide—so wide that it gave Mara a sense of vertigo looking up at it. She had lived all her life on starships and space stations, where ceilings were low and space was tight. Fortunately, the settlement beneath the spaceport was crowded enough that the feeling soon passed.
They found Phoebe and Apollo in a smoky cantina that was packed with other officers from the fleet. Space was so tight that they had to shoulder their way through, and from the loud laughter and the stench of alcohol in the air, it was clear that they weren’t the only ones who had come down for some R&R.
“Apollo, my friend,” said Mathusael, slapping him on the back as he sat down. “And Phoebe, too. I see you’ve got a head start on us!”
Apollo smiled and nodded, though it was clear he was much more subdued than his bearded companion.
“I see we’re not the only ones who thought this was a good idea,” said Mara. She glanced behind her as she sat down, subconsciously making sure she knew where all the exits were.
“I hope we’re not in trouble,” said Phoebe, her eyes as wide as a new recruit’s.
Mara snorted. “Trouble? What do I look like, your mother?”
“I found Soladze hard at work getting us ready for our first tour of duty,” said Mathusael, “so of course I did the irresponsible thing and brought her down here.”
“You really twisted my arm, too,” said Mara. Even she couldn’t tell whether or not she was joking.
“Well,” said Apollo, “welcome planetside, Commander. Glad you could join us.”
Mathusael opened the tap from the dispenser at the center of the table and pulled out a couple of shot glasses. “What’ll it be?”
“Something stiff.”
“A stiff drink for a stiff first officer,” he said as he poured her a shot.
“And don’t you forget it. What is this stuff?”
“Tajji vodka—the hardest stuff this side of Gaia Nova. First one’s on me.”
Mara threw her head back and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. Phoebe gasped, but Apollo and Mathusael were both impressed.
“Looks like our XO can hold her liquor,” said Apollo.
Mathusael laughed. “Are you sure you’ll be saying that in an hour?”
“He’ll be saying it,” said Mara, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I could outdrink anyone in Fourth Platoon—isn’t that right, Phoebe?”
“That stuff kills your brain cells so fast it might as well be poison,” Phoebe muttered. Her voice was so soft, she seemed as if she were speaking to herself. Mara had been around her long enough to know that was how she always talked.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. By the way, where are the others from the platoon?”
“Jason and Pallas?” She went silent for a moment, just long enough to be awkward. “Pallas is training with his commando squad, and Jason is on a special assignment for the captain.”
“Training, training, training,” said Mathusael, shaking his head. “Why work so hard when we’ve got the whole voyage ahead of us for that?”
“Because they don’t have the whole voyage, Chief,” said Mara. The alcohol gave her mind a sudden rush of clarity, with few inhibitions holding it back. “Our commando team is training so they can go into cryo when they’re at peak performance. Didn’t you notice the cryotanks on level six?”
“I didn’t, actually,” he admitted. “Haven’t had a chance to go through all the equipment yet.”