by K A Carter
The voice node sprung to life with Gideon’s voice again. This time, others could be heard in the background. It sounded like background static almost, but recognizable voices. “Uh, I don’t mean to be a bother Cap but, where are we?”
Gideon’s guess was as good as his. He didn’t bother to answer. Instead he replied politely “I’ll be down in a sec,” pausing by the node. Nothing but an ominous silence and the sound of Freya’s short breaths in a constant flutter of relief.
Downstairs on the main deck was the hologram of star charts pulled up. Most of the crew stood around it. Others less attentive than some. Scud and Gideon being the engineers that they were, holding up hand terminals to it.
“What are you guys doing?” said Jericho. His voice deep and carrying base.
“Cap’n, did you guys manage to get a fix on where we might be?” said Scud. His tone mirroring the question as if it was rhetorical. He shook his head as he made his way to them. “Freya couldn’t pick up any celestial bodies within a three-light year distance,” Jericho responded. “She’s still figuring out the long-range scanners.”
“I figured as much. Take a look at this,” Scud pulled up the map on the hologram and took a step back. Jericho eyes examined the map and keyed in to view the data at its direct source. His eyes widened as he read.
“It’s a guided navigation atlas,” he said.
“It is. Gideon checked the log count,” said Scud. “There’s over six hundred and fifty map logs.”
“What does that mean?” Anda budded in with a worrisome voice. “What does that even mean?”
“Freya get down here,” said Gideon, he was still standing next to the node.
“On my way,” she said.
Freya scuttled in, her eyes immediately directed to the map. Jericho could see her confusion. “Wow,” was all that she could muster. “This has to be the biggest map database I’ve ever seen,” It wasn’t saying much in her case. She was till fairly young and hadn’t actually graduated from an academy. She had dropped out soon after starting, but she had had her fair share flights.
Zen slowly trotted down. Her face was pale and frowning, tears still spilling out.
“We need to get back to Corporate space,” said Jericho “Can we do it from here?”
Freya paused stuttering at the question. “Well no, I… I wouldn’t know how to key that in. I’m still not familiar with this ship.”
“Get on that for me,”
She rumbled back around the corner and up towards cockpit. She’d try her best. He knew that, and that’s why he loved her. That’s why she had been on his crew as long as she had. Though young she had proven herself time and time again Helping them escape near capture’s by federal authorities and merc groups on at least four separate occasions..
While the getaway happened, Morris and Luke had used brute force to pry the marines from any weapons and put them in a small brig that sat behind the hydroponics chamber. Now, it was all about making sure they could get to familiar ground. By the looks of their faces, that’s exactly what everyone thought. Jericho came up with examples of a next move in his head.
“I’m just glad we didn’t get glassed by whoever that was,” said Mellor in a humorous manner. No one laughed or giggled.
“He’s got a point” Gideon added.
Hours had passed. Jericho had ordered Freya not to move the ship an inch until they figured out something to do. She probed the flight data trying to find sort of marker to give a point of reference of where they were.
“I examined everything,” she said while strutting through the small crowd that was the rest of the crew. “We jumped further into the black. I’m pretty certain of that.”
“Uncharted space you mean?” Anda said.
“So, we can still get back to the Brink,” Jericho asked in a manner that would imply it was a sound idea.
“No…Well yeah. Well actually… I don’t know.” She pulled it up again from the cylindrical terminal on the main deck. The log shuttered with the endless cycle of maps. We can only use the logs that are already programmed until I find a way to unlock manual entry.”
“So, what? We follow it back to some corporate base?” said Gideon by now he took a seat at a terminal couch that , his knees got weak when he hadn’t taken his medicine. Two drops of tetra-glucosamine from the med-pack he’d keep in a pocket of his vest. Jericho, spotted him rubbing at his legs like they were about to walk away from him. Only Gideon didn’t go for it. He sat there listening, appearing to be more intrigued at the possibility of being in truly unexplored space.
“Can someone tell me what we can do?” said Jericho, trying not to worry about everything all at once.
“We have no choice but to hang tight and figure out this ship,” Freya’s voice was still shaky, almost brittle. Holding back raw emotion that could barely be filtered by her typically tough exterior. In nearly five years, Jericho hadn’t seen Freya this fragile.
Jericho knew that this was some experimental ship. Orcus any number of its thousands of subsidiaries surely had the resources. It didn’t explain why a high value asset like this ship, managed to be discovered by none other than Volland. Did Volland know what it was? Was he purposely giving it away for some inconspicuous reason?
Jericho didn’t want both parties after him, let alone being trapped in unknown space. No matter the case, Jericho always went by the book. That book had only one rule. Whether good or bad at least make a choice. Those ideas had gotten him to where he was now. Only it was a double-edged blade. Jericho wasn’t dim though. He knew most of his brushes with danger boiled down to pure luck.
“Freya, give it a couple hours then plot in the next map log.” Jericho had walked over to the node.
Much of the crew went back to their quarters. There wasn’t much else to do aside from contemplate what awaited and try to figure out the next move.
Jericho’s cabin seemed smaller now. Being captain started to seem like it was becoming progressively more difficult of a job. Now, when it counted the most, he wondered if he was making the right choices. If everything up to now was a mistake. He should have never bought the heap he called the Gilroy from Milton, the slimy street peddler that made collecting junkyard ships a criminal’s pastime. Maybe if he had never left Titan he wouldn’t be here now condemning the people he had come to love to dying out in the never-ending darkness.
In order to keep things in perspective, Jericho reminded himself of what life would be like if he hadn’t made the choices he had. Another kind of death. That was at least among them possibilities. For a remarkably progressive species, humankind had begun leaving behind those that kept the industrial machine working. The soft underbelly of working class Sol inhabitants that were left exposed to the void that awaited them. While diplomats and ambassadors alike scurried around the known galaxy quadrants to seek peaceful relations, the independent workers in search for something less conforming became the victims of what the galaxy turned out to be; an unforgiving place. At this moment, Jericho believed it turned out to be a cold, empty, treacherous; all of the things he hadn’t expected. Not after life on Titan. Those he thought were meant to protect the people turned out to only want to exploit them. CPF and the Corporations were essentially wolves with different disguises. In truth, all of them were the same. Leaving people like Jericho and his crew right in the middle.
It was right, what he did. The choices he made. That was the conclusion he came to. As Jericho sat there, contemplating what awaited, he was knocked out of his thoughts by his cabin door opening. It was Anda slowly stepping toward him. She had a comforting posture, but judgmental eyes. Jericho had picked up on it. He was good at that sort of thing.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair.
“I’m not,” she said, even though she knew that she was. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. In all this mess, the crew forgets that it’s not so easy leading us sometimes.” Anda’s words felt like blankets of th
in sleek cotton wrapping over Jericho’s shoulders. He wondered if one day there would be a time he wouldn’t have her to comfort him. It was necessary comfort. Like that of a family member. Spending many years in the void had a tendency of hardening its inhabitants.
“Remember when we first met?” she said. “I was on Ceres pickpocketing passersby for food to get me through the day.” She smiled a small smile at him, leaning against the desk he sat at.
He didn’t smile back. “I remember. You were such a tough girl. Had an eye for fighting too.”
“I always wondered why me. Why let me onboard? I didn’t have anything going for me,” she looked down at scuffed boots; like a slight reminder of what she had been through.
“You were smart, genuine, and I could see what you needed to keep going. It was really that simple.” He grabbed her hand in a welcoming manner. “To be part of something bigger than just trying to survive, whatever it could be. I just wanted to give you that opportunity. I never thought you’d stick around for as long as you did.”
Jericho had decided to leave out the fact that he was glad she had stayed with him for so long. He was sure she likely knew it anyway.
“Well it’s a good thing I did.” Anda kissed him on his cheek, caressing his shoulder. “Who knows what mess you’d be in without me,” She made her way to the cabin door. “Come eat something” a slow saunter. “Captain.”
∆∆∆
“Ready for warp,” said Freya, looking into a blue lit holographic screen a part of the helm controls in the cockpit. Her headset rested closer to her right cheek where she wore a thin scar that edged off at her chin and neck.
“Hit it when you’re ready” the captain replied tapping arm from behind.
“Warp in three, two, one.”
Chapter 11: S’tiri
The trek to the Ornabi system appeared short somehow. The days that compiled the last week, seemed like a blur in the back drop of what was still a war effort. Only for the moment it had slowed down. S’tiri didn’t like the idea of it slowing down. He wanted the battle. It was something he was good at. Now as an Official of the A’tai, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to be on the ground with troops again. Before that was ever to be on the table. It was arranged that S’tiri would take part in Hute-Mua ritual. One he had performed when he first enlisted and successfully completed the Trials of the Elders. Now, an actual Officer of the A’tai, the directing of agents would be delegated to him. In theory, that sounded good, but S’tiri wouldn’t let himself become an Irinan that sat back and watched as soldiers and agents laid their lives on the line.
The humans had proved to be more reasonable than previously anticipated. S’tiri had his doubts. He thought back to something Captain J’elan told him. Orders were still orders. And they mattered more now than at any other point. It at least felt invigorating to be back on a warship. In deep orbit, above another choke point of the quadrant. Zeglia. A planet sanctioned for colonization yet already home to Elassi civilians. Nearly one billion.
Just beneath the warship; a battle ensued as it should. On the bridge, the orbital battlefield showed starships carriers holding points while fighters swooped around each other. Cannon fire lighting up the window. The reflection of it all bright against the observation deck. S’tiri recognized the Elassi ships that maneuvered on the orbital field. Each having a unique design. Dark red spectrum of colors covered the ships like cloaks. Irinan ships looked formidable. As they usually had. There was another group of ships; with sinister designs and almost glasslike features. S’tiri was uncertain who they might have been. Cannon fire and fighter blasts bounced and scaped against green cylindrical shapes that outlined the body of their ships.
Only the Irinan scientists had developed shields so effective besides a few other civilizations. Many of those civilizations were aligned with the Moranthian Empire. Thankfully, groups like those and the empire were far enough away not to desire any expansion in the direction of Mulaya. There were only so many options of whom it could be. It hit S’tiri; the obvious answer. The Draul. Like overseers of galactic chaos, they had sent ships to aid allies. The biggest of them looked menacing. I have to get on that ship, thought S’tiri. It wasn’t a matter of asking. He was an official now. Orders were orders.
“Captain, I need to get on that ship,” said S’tiri. He pointed out the bridge window. “It may hold vital reconnaissance information.” The warship was far enough away from the battle not to be in any danger of crossfire.
“That’s a death wish,” said the Captain. A’nsri was a veteran from the old days. Back when the U’naan government body had a singular leader. Nearly thirty years before that was changed.
“It’s an opportunity to gain some info on who we’re dealing with,” S’tiri said. “Take it as an order. We need to know how to fight them. How to defeat the root of the forces.”
The captain walked up to the edge closest to the window. “As you wish,”
“I’ll need your best hacker and at least five of your best shots.”
The captain nodded and waved a deck hand over.
In the hangar bay, the fighters were being prepped. Angular pod bodies that connected to spherical pylons that powered flight in the form of fusion thrusters. Each could fit two people at a time. One to fly, the other to operate forward and rear guns.
S’tiri suited up in light armor, he wanted to be more maneuverable this time around. The fabrics made scrunch noises as he walked toward the rest of the boarding party. The hacker he needed, M’ala, was short for a Irinan. She stood closest. The others were a group of soldiers. The team was supposed to be the best, but S’tiri couldn’t tell by looking at them. One of them stashed a sinister looking rifle in the side compartment of the fighter. He gestured at one of the others and climbed in. As S’tiri made his way to his fighter, he was greeted by an unusual looking soldier; his skin was green and had thorn-like protrusions. He stopped in front of the fighter.
“Ready when you are sir.”
There were four others in the boarding party. As S’tiri climbed in, a loud voice came from the lift. “S’tiri!” it was Z’oni, suited up in her finest armor. No more uniform, and she had brought along her carbine. “There is no way your doing a reconnaissance boarding like this without me,” She strutted to the closest fighter and began to climb in.
S’tiri couldn’t help but grin. “I’d never think of such a thing.”
One by one, each of the fighter’s pilots made a roll call on systems check. “Ready” each of them said. In a quick flash, one by one the four ships flew out of the cargo bay force field in quick flashes. “Follow my trajectory,” S’tiri’s pilot said. Eroful was his name. The green Irinan was a part of a group that made up a fraction of the entire population. Genetic anomalies that caused the afflicted to appear green and possess protrusions called moreans.
It was calm over the battlefield. On the way down, the other fighters followed S’tiri’s ship single file. It was a dive down to hit the Draul ship. Some of the Irinan ships directed fire into the side of it. S’tiri could assumed that order probably came from the A’tai. As each fighter entered the battlefield, waves of ships sat on each other. Like tiers on a ship, levels of fighting on each of them. The deeper they went the harder the exchange seemed to get. It felt nonchalant that S’tiri had ordered them to fly by an ongoing battle, soldiers dying around them, ships shields being drawn down.
“Almost there,” said Eroful. His skills showing as he swooped through cannon fire nearly unscathed; the shields took care of what he couldn’t dodge.
Z’oni flew her fighter right behind them keeping close proximity. S’tiri could see her through the cockpit, making adjustments with them. She was obviously a veteran at flying. She continued to surprise him. It felt unusual to S’tiri looking back at the others following them. As another dip came into leveling off near the Draul ship. In a sudden flash of cannon fire; fighter three was hit. The initial blast revealed shield protection, the second fire from a
n enemy fighter shot straight through the cockpit window and a pylon. S’tiri could see it all from his gunner seat. He paused, it felt like slow motion only he couldn’t do anything to save them. The fighter exploded. Fighter four carrying two soldiers, pulled up only in the nick of time, nearly clipping on one of the pylons. “I’m off course,” the pilot said. He slowed for only seconds but lost nearly half the distance to the rest of the group.
“Replotting” said the pilot. “I’m rolling back around.”
It seemed as though the Elassi had spotted the boarding party. The cannon fire got heavier, with each second. “Steady,” said Eroful. “Steady.”
S’tiri didn’t notice his panting as their speed picked up immensely. Only until Eroful said “Brake now!”
The force field on the Draul ship appeared bigger the closer the fighters got. Gun fire from all directions focused in on them as they landed. Had it not been for shields, they would’ve been shot down before they could land. Lizard-like heads sat atop of broad shoulders. The skin-tight armor blackened the rest of their bodies. Too many, thought S’tiri. The hangar bay was large yet flooded with Draul personnel; each of them armed. The blaster fire rushed past S’tiri’s head. The guns were unlike any carbine, or blaster. Electric strings shot out of them streaming toward them. Eroful took a shock to his shield that stunned him and nearly knocked him off his feet. “Move!” he said with a gravelly voice.
The boarding party motioned to a hangar wall that provided minimal cover. “Now what?” one of the soldiers said, returning fire vigorously. M’ala lifted her wrist mount to show S’tiri a scanned layout of the surrounding corridors. It wasn’t as easy as plotting a route, they didn’t know where they needed to go. M’ala ran crouched to the connecting door, S’tiri followed behind.
The Draul were relentless. No one reloaded, just electro-shot after electro-shot. M’ala rigged a hack on the door. It only took a few seconds. As they opened, everyone scurried in Almost immediately after, the doors slowly closed. One of the soldiers shot a few rounds from his carbine before they did. It was for good measure.