by Joe Vasicek
“That sounds about right. What do you mean about not being able to pull me out of it?”
“Well,” said Phoebe, “your brain is so damaged, another one of these breakdowns could make it irreversible. You came out of the last one on your own, but next time, I doubt it’s going to be that easy.”
Aaron nodded. “Thank you, Phoebe. I’ll be going now.”
He rose to his feet and walked slowly out of the medical bay. Clearly, the news had had a sobering effect. Mara just hoped that it had been sobering enough.
“How much of that did you tone down?” she asked once Aaron was gone.
“Most of it,” Phoebe admitted. “The therapy might reverse some of the damage, but when it’s this far advanced, there’s not a lot we can do.”
“What if we get him to a proper hospital? Will they be able to fix it?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I doubt it. You’re just going to have to look out for him.”
Mara bit her lip and struggled not to have a breakdown herself. That was what I was afraid of.
* * * * *
I can’t believe what a fool I am, Aaron thought as he sat on the edge of his cot. He buried his face in his hands as he replayed the events of the last few hours over and over in his head. The derelict starship, sitting in the midst of the debris field; the open airlock door; the corridor streaked with bullet holes and blood. The edges of his vision had blurred, and then, without warning, he’d lost it.
Was Mara right? Had he endangered the lives of everyone on the ship with his addiction to the neural stimulator program? If it were just his own life in danger, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. But the thought that others might die because of his mistakes was absolutely terrifying. He’d thought that he had things under control, but clearly, he’d been wrong.
There was only one thing to do for it. He had to destroy the program.
He took a deep breath and sat the helmet-sized dream monitor on his lap. The neural stimulator program was stored in a datachip that fit into a slot in the back. He pulled it out and held it between his thumb and forefinger. It was small, barely larger than his thumbnail. Strange to think that such a small object could have so much control over his life.
With a deep breath, he dropped the datachip onto the floor and stomped on it with the heel of his boot. It shattered instantly. He rose to his feet and hit it again and again, until it was ground to powder. Only then did he fall back to his cot.
“It’s done,” he said aloud. His heart was racing so fast it surprised him, and his arms and legs felt weak. At the same time, he felt a thrill of exhilaration down to the ends of his toes. The program was gone. He was free.
The intercom chimed. “Captain,” said Mara, “your presence is requested in the command center.”
Aaron groaned. “What is it, Commander?”
“Something important that Lieutenant Nova wants to brief us on. She thinks it could be the key to finding your brother.”
He sat up wearily and rubbed his head. “All right. I’m on my way.”
Two minutes later, he stepped out of the elevator and onto the command deck just below the bridge. Katya, Mara, and Mathusael were all waiting for him.
“Captain,” said Lieutenant Nova. “I’m glad you could come so soon. Are you feeling better?”
“I’m fine,” Aaron said gruffly. “Let’s get on with the briefing,” said Mara.
Katya nodded and keyed a series of commands into the console at the nearest work station. A map of the rift came up on the screen, with a cluster of points around their current position.
“These are all the signals we’ve picked up so far,” said Katya. “It’s not a comprehensive list by any means, but it’s pretty close.”
“Are any of them from my brother?”
“Not that we’ve been able to pick up so far,” she said. “The distance between jump points is so long, it would take us several months to pick up his signal. However, Mathusael and I have been working on that problem, and we’ve found a way to cut that time down significantly.”
Aaron glanced over at Mathusael, who nodded. “Go on, Lieutenant.”
“The Merope-7 carries a number of relay sats which we can easily repurpose into listening devices. By placing half a dozen of them along a line at relatively short intervals—say, five or six light-days—we could cover a wide enough area of space to pick up the signals from all of the ships that passed through the rift in the last two months.”
“Good thinking,” said Aaron. “How long would it take to repurpose them?”
“Not more than a few hours,” said Mathusael. “It’s a pretty simple job. My engineers are on it already.”
“Excellent.”
“That’s not all, Captain,” said Katya. She glanced at Mara.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“We’ve analyzed the signals, and found something interesting that they all share,” Katya continued. “They’re disguised to look like normal navigational signals, but there’s far too much data being transmitted for that to be the case.”
Aaron frowned. “What are you saying?”
“Each signal contain a secret encrypted message. When I cracked the encryption, I found something interesting.”
She keyed the console, and the speakers in the room buzzed with static. There was a loud tapping noise, and the static fell away.
“—chip will transmit a signal that will tell my brothers that you’ve paid for your passage,” came a heavy voice. “Keep it active at all times.”
“All right,” came the voice of a young man, probably a star wanderer like Isaac. “What do you want for it?”
“Depends on what you’re carrying. But first, I have some questions for you.”
“First,” said the heavy voice, “your name is Moses, and your ship is the Esther?”
“Th-that’s right,” said the young man. He sounded nervous and uncomfortable.
“What is your intended destination.”
“I’m headed for the Far Outworlds, sir.”
“And what do you plan to do there?”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
“I don’t know yet,” said the young man. “Make some trades, check out the markets.”
“Do you have any connection with the resistance movement against the Imperials in the New Pleiades?”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
“Good. It would be unfortunate for you if you did.”
The comment was followed by muffled laughter, making Aaron’s skin crawl. It was clear enough that man with the heavy voice was a pirate.
“Y-you don’t have to worry about me,” the young man stammered.
“No, we don’t.”
The recording cut off abruptly. Aaron leaned heavily on the console with his hands clenched tightly into fists.
“Every signal has a recording like this?” he asked at length.
Katya nodded. “Every signal that we’ve decrypted, without fail.”
“But why attach a secret message like this?”
“For the benefit of the pirates on the other end of the rift,” Katya said. “An operation of this magnitude would require all of Gulchina’s resources, so she had her subordinates conduct the interrogations at the head of the rift while she decided what to do with them on the other. Attaching the recording of each interrogation to the signal for the protection fee was brilliant.”
“In other words,” said Mara, “Gulchina could check to see who was lying about their destination and who wasn’t. Or who seemed interesting enough to take out.”
“They were looking for something,” said Aaron. “That’s why they took my brother.”
Mara frowned. “We don’t know that for sure. We don’t even know if Isaac made contact with these pirates.”
“He did—I’m sure of it. He would never have entered the rift without paying the protection money. It would be too reckless for him not to.”
“Be that as it may, we still don’t have proof of
anything.”
“Not yet,” said Mathusael. “But once we’ve got those relays set up, we can find out exactly what happened with the pirates and your brother.”
“Let’s do it,” said Aaron. “Let’s do it at once.
* * * * *
“How are we looking, Apollo?”
“Ready to jump on your orders, sir.”
“Mathusael?”
“All systems are in the green, and the sat is standing by for launch.”
“Jason?”
“Scanners are empty, Captain. We’re good to go.”
“Excellent. Apollo, take us out.”
Mara closed her eyes as the humming grew and resounded in her ears. This time, though, the buildup was brief—much briefer than any of the jumps before. Her stomach fluttered a little, but other than that, she felt almost nothing.
“Apollo?”
“Energy reserves are depleted to fifty percent, and the jump drive is on cooldown. Triangulating position now.”
“Jason?”
“Scanners are still empty. Nothing to report.”
“Very well. Mathusael, how’s our sat looking?”
“Ready for launch on your orders.”
“Good. Deploy it now.”
There was a short, muffled noise through the bulkheads as the repurposed relay sat launched from its chute. On the main screen beneath the window, the video feed showed its nav light blinking red as it drifted slowly away from the Merope-7.
“Status?”
“Looks good, Captain. Sat reports all systems operational, and it’s picking up the signals exactly as programmed.”
“Excellent. Jason, get our exact coordinates from the nav-computer and mark the sat on the map. Apollo, how much longer until the next jump?”
“About ninety standard minutes, sir.”
“Then we have an hour and a half until the next deployment. Mara, I believe it’s your turn for bridge duty. The rest of you are free to go.”
One by one, the officers filed out of the bridge. Aaron let the others go before him, but Mathusael lingered as if working on something. Soon, he and Mara were alone.
“How are you holding together, Mara?”
“I’m fine,” she said, not looking up from her screen. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk and hoped Mathusael would get the hint. Instead, he walked over to her and leaned on the wall in front of her console.
“Is something bothering you? You seem a little tense.”
Mara sighed. “I doubt it’s anything you can help me with.”
“Try me.”
“Technically, I’ve already promised not to tell you.”
“Is it about Aaron?” he asked. “Does it have to do with the way he freaked out back on the derelict?”
She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “Nosy much?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not about to spread any rumors. But it’s not exactly hard to see that something is bothering you.”
He’s not going to let me off, Mara realized. She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair.
“Yes, it’s about Aaron.”
“Do you want to talk?” Mathusael asked. Mara couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m serious, Mara. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
“Why?”
Mathusael walked over from the wall and sat down in his chair, turning it to face her. “Your father was a close friend of mine. The least I can do for him is to look out for his daughter.”
Right, Mara thought. She turned to face her screen, more to hide her eyes than anything else.
“You left Megiddo Station before the famine got really bad, didn’t you?”
“I did,” he said. “But I heard all about it after I settled down at Esperanzia. It sounded bad.”
Mara nodded. “My family left for Bacca when we realized we couldn’t stay any longer. My father had some old friends there from his days as a star wanderer and thought they could help us get back on our feet again. Instead, the Imperials came and took over the system.”
She looked up at Mathusael to gauge his reaction. He was listening intently—much more intently than she’d expected. His face was a picture of grief and anxiety, as much for her as for her father. It caught her a little off guard.
“As for the rest, well, you already know. My mother and I managed to escape to Vulcana, which is where I joined the Resistance. I’ve been fighting ever since.”
“Sounds rough.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” she said. For a moment, she considered telling him more, but decided against it. The memories were just too painful.
“You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, did you?”
“No,” she admitted.
“When your father died, it shattered all your hopes and dreams for the life you expected to live. Even after the famine, you still had your family, but without that…” He left the thought unfinished.
Mara bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice between a croak and a whisper.
“I never had it nearly as hard as you, but getting along without family, that was tough. I know what it’s like to feel alone.”
Do you know what it’s like to feel like your own father wouldn’t recognize you? Mara almost asked. She held her tongue, though, and kept the thought to herself. Some questions were better left unasked.
As if in answer to her unspoken question, Mathusael rose to his feet and put a hand on her shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, Mara, I think your father would be proud of you.”
“I doubt that very much,” Mara said softly. A lump rose in her throat, and she choked it down, making her jaw quiver.
“You’ve got friends here, Mara. You’re not alone.”
“Not yet,” she muttered low enough that he couldn’t hear her.
Mathusael turned and walked to the hatchway, pausing for a moment before he left. “Your father was a good man,” he said over his shoulder. “He always had a talent for seeing past the superficialities. If he could see you now, I know that he’d be proud of you.”
I doubt that very much.
Mara’s vision began to blur as tears stung her eyes. She didn’t dare speak for fear that her voice would crack and betray her. Only after Mathusael left did she wipe her eyes with her trembling hands.
* * * * *
Aaron’s hands shook as he gripped Paladin-4’s flight stick. It was the Battle of Colkhia, and explosions and plasma fire flashed all around him. On his rear scanners, the Aegis disintegrated before his very eyes, torn apart by the larger and more powerful Starfire. The other drop-ships of Paladin wing sped as fast as they could to their target, but they were already under heavy fire and chances were slim that anyone was going to get there alive.
Aaron dodged and weaved, avoiding the rain of projectile fire by mere yards. Over the intercom, Commander Noah frantically issued commands, but for some reason Aaron couldn’t understand him. The edges of his vision blurred, and he began to lose his grip on reality.
The neural stimulator program, he realized. The brain damage—it’s killing me!
He floundered about in a panic, unable to make sense of anything. It was as if he were trapped in the body of an animal, or perhaps a small infant, seeing and yet not comprehending, grasping and yet losing all coordination. The scene swam before him, until he could no longer make any sense of it. He felt as if he were trapped.
Then he was lying on his back, his hands pressed flat against glass. He tried to sit up, but there wasn’t enough space to move. He was encased in a coffin of glass and metal, with no way to open it or release himself. He shivered and realized that he was naked.
What is this place?
The explosions were gone, along with the excitement and panic of battle. Three people looked down on him with somber faces. The first was Mara, wearing her dress uniform with the insignia of a captain on her shoulder. The second was Mathusael, dressed in the same grubby outfit he’d worn when Aaron and Isaac had visited him at Esperanzi
a. The third was his brother.
“Isaac?” Aaron cried, his heart skipping a beat. “Is that you, Isaac? What are you—let me out of here!”
He pounded on the glass with his fists, but his friends only stared at him with somber, grieving faces. It was as if they couldn’t see or hear him. He screamed at the top of his lungs and pounded on the glass so hard it almost broke, but nothing changed. He was trapped.
This place is a cryochamber, he realized with a start. I’m trapped in a cryochamber just like the one we found with that girl!
“Please!” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “Please, let me out! I’m okay—I’m okay!”
Mara turned to a nearby control panel and keyed in a series of commands. For a second, hope swelled in Aaron’s heart that they’d heard him, that they were going to let him go. But then, cold green gas filled the chamber, making him cough and shiver.
“No!” he screamed, his vision darkening. “No!”
He bolted upright, gasping for breath as he glanced around his quarters. He was alive—he was fine. It was all a dream. Still, it had seemed so real that he couldn’t help but shudder. His heart pounded, and his undershirt was drenched in sweat. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
“When is it going to end?” he groaned, more to himself than to anyone else. This was the sixth nightmare in as many sleep shifts. Ever since he’d destroyed the neural stimulator program, he hadn’t been able to sleep. He stared at his hands and tried to hold them still, but they wouldn’t stop trembling. The withdrawal was making his life a living hell.
The nightmares always ended with him trapped in a cryotank. He didn’t know why that was, though he had a vague idea. At the Battle of Colkhia, it was his dream about the girl in the cryotank that had snapped him out of the mental haze brought on by the neural stimulator. Ever since his brother Isaac had gone missing, he’d replaced her in those dreams, locked in the coffin-like cryotank. And now the roles were reversed.
This can’t go on much longer, he thought, rubbing his eyes. If it does, I may just lose it.