by K A Carter
Seeds of a tragedy lingered in his head. He liked it that way. Nario wanted to keep the incident in his mind for when the Lanx would meet again.
The ship wasn’t going back to Lanx space right away. Nario made them change course to Sol. There wasn’t any alternative quite like doing diplomacy from the safety of your own cosmic backyard. It was a welcoming thought that he would’ve enjoyed some justice, all the same it was a good sight to see familiar ground. The Eneborah made a stop at Io, it wasn’t an aesthetically structured moon, but it had numerous research facilities and forward planning operations the Federation had established as a result of the constant rebellious Brink groups aligned with the corporations. There was an old friend he needed to visit.
Nario hadn’t trusted any of his superiors in the past, He always needed to know what was going on and to do that; he would contact Dr. Dell Harkin. He had his bugs back on Earth and Mars. Those that could get important information out to the further planets. Classified information on a usual basis. Hackers were what he would call them but only a fraction of them ever really touched a terminal. A majority were made up of political shadows and document leakers; contacts he had made for decades. People that trusted him but he didn’t trust.
Harkin himself was an accomplished nuclear physicist, shipped out to aid in the power systems production of the outer rim of the solar system; the good that did. He didn’t initially take kindly to his new position, but it gave him the cloud to install his own experimental efforts.
The Mos Hera docking port was a hot mess, and Io looked all the more like desert and frozen tundra meshed together into a smaller orb of a planet. The cloudless sky gave a story to a long drawn out process of terraforming. It smelled well enough to mimic Earth; nothing like the job that had been done for Mars or Titan for that matter.
Nario and Rhion walked a narrow bridge that interconnected with others alike through a series of research buildings next to the docking port. The facility was state of the art. The best the federation could do. It had been a while since his last visit, but Nario still knew the way. The only difference was the fresh faces that sat at so many of the lab desks. Dr. Harkin sat at a similar desk tinkering with a robotic hand. “Long time no see, Harkin,” Nario said. He wasted no time and sat at a lab chair by the desk adjacent. Rhion postured, leaning on top of the desk.
“For good reason,” the husky scientist responded. “You’re off being the head of the new intergalactic snake ring,” Harkin said, finishing with a humorous tone. All the while he didn’t bother to take his eyes away from what he was working on.
“Well, some of us have to pay dues.”
“Ah, what a load. Speaking of rubbish. Looks like your friends at the FCI are finally turning their heads towards new solar systems.”
“I figured that was coming,” Rhion said. “There goes the neighborhood.”
Harkin was referring to the Federal Colonization Initiative, the funded organization that initially had overseen the further colonization of solar system. Now, it would be whatever new venture the CPF had; somewhere they hadn’t seen. The only unfortunate thing, the corporations had long surveyed for somewhere new to establish. The Federal policy was the only thing holding them back now. Not anymore though, due to the Regulation for the People policies that were put in place. Basically, any company had equal opportunity to all projects. Food production, interstellar manufacturing, scientific research and testing, and now exoplanet colonization. The Free Market way left the CPF only subject to the menial programs that catered to the welfare. It was enough. Not that any one civilian would say it did. Nario knew that. He’d seen poor before.
“Where’d you hear that?” Nario said. He wasn’t shocked, but surprised that the news and mobilization was moving so quickly. He’d only just gotten back to the home system.
“Are you taking the piss? Like I’d tell ya that.” Harkin chuckled and gestured as he got up for the two of them to follow him. “But, some of those corporations are up to something cheeky. A buddy of mine that works for Nikitin mentioned some new terraforming projects.”
“So what?” Rhion responded.
“It’s supposed to cut the bloody time in half. Some new method. My guess, they got in bed with one of those kacks out there. Harkin always referred to the alien civilizations that were never talked about, as kacks. Some weird old british thing he did. Nario always enjoyed hearing him talk about it.
The labs further into the facility were much dimmer. It was Harkin’s personal study. Nario assumed it was to be away from pressing ears. The lab coats that normally worked federal research facilities all had the same ideas and it included compiling cases against each other. It was all a ploy for which could get their career further. Harkin didn’t care about those things; could’ve been why he lasted so long.
Inside the personal study, was a cot on the far side and another lab desk, cluttered with data tablets and a desktop terminal that was seemingly running through some sort of program. Harkin let the door shut and pressed a sleek pad on the wall next to it; a green LED lit up. “I’ll be quick, I’m sure you have to get on your way,” Harkin started. “I don’t know what’s going on, most of my contacts have gone dark. I think you should stay out of contact from me for a little while. I’m certain the corporations are catching up to the works. Hell, maybe even the Fed.”
“You into something I should know about?” Nario asked. The idea that he had gotten away with decades of info leaks didn’t add up. And the thought of federal Internal Affairs taking closer paces toward him. It had to be something else. With everything that had been put in place – and it pained him to think so – most of the federal internal investigators would likely be out of a job or focusing on much more tending matters.
“Nothing you need to worry about. You should get going though.”
Nario took note of his friend’s anxiousness. He hid it well. Well enough that Rhion probably didn’t think much of it. It was a cue. Get going. Something was off.
“Alright, well try not to stick to the bottle too much,” Nario said. The two passed back through the study door and out towards the lab.
“Don’t worry, I’ll only drink once in the morning and again before bed,” Harkin responded, raising his voice as they gained distance.
∆∆∆
On the ship’s ride to Mars, Nario wondered about what his friend was hinting at. It was another thing added to an otherwise long list of worries. He had been pushing it down in his thoughts but it kept creeping back up. To make things even more jumbled, he missed Corrinne for some reason; more now than he had when he was preoccupied. He sat at his office desk at the Federal Command HQ based in Cydonia. Mars was a breath of familiar fresh air. A garden sat below his view, resting on a mezzanine level connector to other buildings. The rush hour brought with it busy streets. He missed being surrounded by the bustle of human interaction. Human.
He pulled up a list of contacts on his desktop terminal. His finger hovering over the tab to call Corrinne. Minutes went by as he pondered the option. It resulted in a call. The call rung for a near minute with no answer. It took a good two minutes before a message courtesy would pop up and ask to record one. He didn’t bother to wait for it and clicked it off.
A silky box was perched across the office room. The holographic interface that Thoram had ordered to his ship. A result for being unwilling to participate in face to face diplomacy. A byproduct of the incident with Swarran. All the same, he didn’t want anything to do with them for the moment, but he wouldn’t be able to escape it forever. Nario walked over to the box sitting three feet off the ground and tried to recollect the instructions Vrewulf had mentioned. It was a Phobetian technology. Nario recalled a series of whistles that Vrewulf showed him. Although he could whistle it wasn’t as similar to the way Vrewulf had done it. Phobetians were eyeless and sound was an intricate use of communication. It explained Chutu, their language consisting of thousands of dialects; all inclusive of vibrations and whistles. This resulted
in much of the vocabulary and syntax having quadruple if not quintuple meanings. Nario remembered all of it from the data Thoram urged him to mull over. He was lucky that he had.
He followed the whistle as outlined and nothing happened. In an unintended resort to primal instinct, Nario banged a hand against the side as if it was the fault of the box for not understanding his whistle. He tried a second time; this time a higher octave. The box sprung open transforming into a terminal that hovered five feet off the ground. It scanned Nario from the small point in the middle of the terminal. It was a pitch-black screen. Suddenly, a voice rose from out of the contraption. It was robotic in nature, at least to Nario’s human ear. “Com hub online, input designation,” the terminal said. There was no doubt in Nario’s mind, this might’ve made his feelings toward the Lanx worse. He had just invited managing his position from where he felt comfortable. Something about that made it not so comfortable.
Nario repeated the whistle and the terminal refolded back into the box. He took a seat back at his desk; his eyes wandered out toward the window. He reminisced on pictures he’d seen of Mars before. The ones before the terraforming as he compared them to the view. Polar opposites; both equally beautiful in their own right. Both symbolic of something worth protecting. The people out there walking to their jobs or families. All living under the umbrella of the Federation. And to those out in the Brink trying to scrap together a life with whatever they could. No matter the differences, it was worth saving as well.
Chapter 20: S’tiri
With the bodies cleared out and the prayer space back to its natural beginnings, S’tiri took part in his own form of a prayer. His mind felt split and part of it wondered why he was praying in the first place, the other proud to be worshiping something so serene. Only he knew it wasn’t serene, there was nothing serene about it. It was dark actually. He was living in a similar darkness to that he had always thought he would shroud himself away from.
A few of the mercs strutted into the room carrying sparing weapons. It was Garrek and Nuri, the stumpy rodent-like soldier. It was a shock to see the mercs exercising with bladed weapons. S’tiri was a master at them, he had been trained prior to his outfit in the Irinan Navy. He didn’t remember any of that anymore, he didn’t remember joining or even that of his childhood. He only remembered the training; that and his new-found faith. Only it wasn’t his faith.
Illa had brought the Cas La’ule, just close enough to avoid orbit around the Myrian homeworld. He had no intention of landing on the close neighbor of the land he once served for. It was rocky with no water in sight. Not a busy planet in the slightest. None of the traditional trading ships or merchant freighters. None of the small outpost stations that were so common around Mulaya. Just free orbital space and a clear view to the ground below. It was just a pass by.
“We’re almost to the coordinates. Figured it worth stopping by for some suppli- “
“No! Keep on route to the coordinates,” S;tiri said, unapologetically interrupting Illa through the com link.
∆∆∆
There it was. The place that used to be called home. It did seem oddly familiar to him, but only in the faintest of thoughts. Its texture was still remarkable to look at. Illa kept the ship at a much further distance than an orbit could sustain. The orbit around Mulaya was riddled with unruly traffic, all of it baring the brand of the military. He recognized the symbols from his memories. Only images without meaning behind them.
“What’s the plan here,” said the stubby being, Nuri. He sat in a pod like seat at the back of the cockpit.
S’tiri pointed at the largest of the orbital stations. A planet defense module. “We are commandeering that,” he stated.
“Oh well, looks like a trip to Carah,” responded Illa sarcastically. It referenced one of the most luscious worlds in the galaxy, as to say it would be easy. The others picked up on it; it even gave S’tiri a slight jab of a grin as it connected with his memories.
“I know those modules inside and out,” S’tiri said. “I can get us in.”
“How do you intend on doing that, not like we can dock all friendly-like,” Garrek said.
“Of course not, we simply wait until one of the supply ships coming from Myria makes port and we loosen a few bolts. After that, we dock on an emergency port, they’ll let us. Myria support ships are provided a crew of three from the Irinan Navy.”
“You’ve got it all figured out then,” Garrek added.
“It should be simple for professionals like yourself,”
“And the support ship, how do we take it?”
“My, I didn’t plan on doing your jobs for you. All the same, if you haven’t noticed this ship is equipped with a cloaking device.” S’tiri leaned over Illa at the controls and placed a finger over a hovering tab. A sound confirmed that the ship was now in cloak.
It made sense why she wouldn’t know about it. It wasn’t usual technology, it was Draul technology, which no one knew about. S’tiri knew; he knew a lot of things about them now, none of which were kin to what he felt about himself. Like the history of a life that wasn’t his own.
It was a lucky feat that Illa even knew how to fly the ship. That would be due to the fact it was retrofitted. A once El’ek ship. Common enough in certain parts of the quadrant. There was no rhyme or reason to the ships lost to the blackness of the galaxy. The darkness in which the Draul hid so often, lingering among those whom didn’t know they were there. It must’ve been why it was so easy to maneuver their positions. S’tiri didn’t know much about that, he only recollected his task at hand. Be the hand of Thalus.
Hours and hours had passed; many ships had flown by. Private freighters, transport frigates, and personal ships alike. None of them right for the job. It wasn’t a cause for worry. S’tiri prayed in the prayer room, waiting for a com call from Illa. It finally came as he was finishing up.
“We have ourselves a catch,” she said.
By the time S’tiri made his way to the cockpit, it was already docked against the Cas La’ule. Illa had knocked out the engine with a point defense beam. It was a miracle she had known how to work the weapon from the cockpit. It had seemed S’tiri had underestimated her for a moment.
“Let us go,” he said.
Illa had looked up at him from her seat with an engaging glance. “You don’t want someone to wait with the ship,”
S’tiri chuckled as he walked out. “Not in the slightest.”
The mercs all suited up carrying their tailored weapons. Those of which they had modded along their journeys. All of them vastly different from the other. For such a secular group, S’tiri did ponder why on a mission for such a xeno-malicious species, why he surrounded himself with those of very different backgrounds. It could be the Irinan in him trying to balance out what it could, especially among the darkness that filled his head with indoctrinating thoughts.
The airlocks were aligned. Illa pushed the button. Despite the armed mercs and their complex weapons, S’tiri stood in front of them wearing his night black robe with his hood covering his head. The airlock doors to the Myrian ship opened slowly. S’tiri slung his folded sword out; it quickly unfolded. He darted to the first person he saw. It was a Myrian lift worker. He sliced into her. S’tiri paid no attention to the carbine fire behind him, it was likely the mercs catching up on the killing.
There were four levels to the support freighter. S’tiri had the mercs search each part of the ship to make sure there was nothing out of place and that there were no survivors.
The main cabin was lifeless although the body count couldn’t have been shy of fifty. Each laid motionless, some dismembered, others intact but riddled with holes.
The main deck was one big bridge. S’tiri stood at the controls with Illa. “Can you get this operational,” he said. “Just enough to float to the defense module.”
Illa nodded her head, getting to work on the tech. She gave no sign to it being an undoable task. In thirty minutes’ time, the system was rigg
ed enough to blow a few impulse burn toward the station. Illa severed the main video com feed, just to insure the diverse bunch wouldn’t give away the plot so quickly.
It didn’t take long for the station to attempt to contact the ship. A wounded animal, wandering around. It was the perfect plan, so it seemed.
“Myria Support Vessel what is your status?” an easily recognizable Irinan voice said. It was a grunt, one likely shipped out from the outskirts of a border province.
S’tiri fuddled his tone, just in case he could be recognized. “This is Vessel Mu-Boln on course to your station,”
“On what grounds?” the grunt asked. “Who am I speaking with?” All were sensible questions. The grunt was likely some unfortunate new recruit, likely thrown on defense duty to get some experience.
S’tiri spoke into the com while reading off the script-like symbol branded into the thick fabric uniform that covered one of the body of a fallen guard. “Zilod E’tano”
A smooth buzz continuously hummed from the other end. It wasn’t static. It wasn’t feedback. A generator maybe. It had to be the Promethium core. The rare element powered half the technology at the Irinan Republic’s disposal, which was plentiful.
To no surprise, the grunt authorized a dock. There was no apparent reason to deny it. Especially since the ship was badly damaged now. Nilus bulged at the hinds and seemed to have enlarged his torso; a likely attribute to his species. A Rorgei/ S’tiri kempt to his robes as the airlock connector sprung open. A grunt stood at the foot of controls, stunned at the sight of the unruly band he took sight of. He froze as S’tiri approached him swiftly, a blade digging into his abdomen. It was a quick motion that left the other two station operators in awe. The mercs took care of them.