by K A Carter
“I need to run a diagnostic on the systems around it. If there are any fluctuations in data flows, I’ll catch it.”
“How long?” Whatever the answer was, he had to take in account that the unknown was waiting for them and in four hours’ standard, Icarus would drop out and the pleasantries of not being in captivity or attacked would be in jeopardy again.
“It’ll take some time Cap, but maybe when we drop out of warp. We may have to power down some systems.” Gideon said, hiking his voice of into an inquisitive manner.
Jericho confirmed it with a nod.
Now, with everything going on, a solid view of the drop out of warp wasn’t up for discussion. Jericho and Anda stood behind the cockpit seat in clear view of the lush array of warped space as it came to a gradual halt and crept onto the sight of a cloudless sepia celestial body.
His eyes widened and he perched himself over the helm controls. “You see that?” he said, pointing to the zenith rising and distant but visible silhouettes on its horizon.
“Ships,” Anda said.
“The planets inhabited.” The notion of another inhabited planet was anything but appealing. If he could have it his way, it would have been satisfying enough to warp to desolate planet after desolate planet until they managed to reach home. That was surely not the case and thinking about it only further made his mind a mess.
With a quick flash the lights cut off and it seemed as though all the power in the cabin had been stripped. Even the ancillary power was off.
His walk through the main deck and quarter rooms brought no clues as to what caused the systems to go down. Engineering was running on the secondary power and before Jericho stepped foot into the deck entrance he toggled a light gadget he kept on his waist belt.
“Give me a hand with this,” the voice out of the darkness said. From the raspy undertone it had to be Scud. He was struggling with a bolt door that roomed the systems Gideon had been working on.
The two of them strained to pull the heavy door to one side. Footsteps on a hard surface tracing multiple people behind them. Jericho looked back to see Keon and Mellor. The safety lights were only just bright enough to see faint facial features.
It took Morris joining in to pull it to a point where someone could fit through. Jericho peered inside before stepping in, the power shifting back on in a sudden motion. Gideon standing next to the panel. It’s color now more vibrant than it was previously.
“Gideon,” Scud said. The man in front of them stood motionless staring at the wall.
The corners of the rectangular panel streamed a hologram ray to a point centered higher above it. Each of them connected to form the face in the electric mist. The face shockingly expressive in front all of them. “Captain Alfred Jericho,” it said in a feminine mechanical voice. “Nexus, at your service.”
Chapter 28: Nario
The woman was classily dressed. tailored almost to an engineered length. Her hands sported high priced rings on every other finger.
“I’m sorry Ambassador, but I can’t help you,” she said. Her words were hollow and full of lies. She wasn’t sorry, and she sure as hell could help if she wanted.
“Don’t give me that,” Nario responded. “I know what Orcus represents in the Brink. I won’t leave here with sorry. Not unless you’d prefer the Federation rain an unholy hand down on your establishment.”
“Threats won’t get you what you want,” the woman said. She was enjoying the exchange by the looks of it. It wasn’t every day a Federal ambassador sat in front of a corporate figurehead, asking for help in the most oblique of ways. “Besides, the federation past the belt spells for civil war.” She stood up from her chair, “or something like it.”
Nario followed her with his eyes as she approached him She leaned against the desk she had just sat behind, invading his personal space. A power move he immediately recognized. He had failed to remember whom exactly he was talking to for a moment. A ruthless Chairman. And no one would dare say it, but undoubtedly a political leader in the Brink. Director Olanna Vacura
“How long do you think your little empire will last once this war reaches our doorsteps?” Nario asked, he glared into her eyes.
She gave nothing away in her expressions, and it boggled Nario. He was beginning to doubt his level of intimidation. After all, Vacura was head of arguably the biggest corporate giant there ever was.
“We’ve done well for ourselves so far.” She leaned in closer, a pause collecting the tension in the room she had purposely built up “Tell you what,” she said. “I will consider the federation’s proposal.”
Nario’s shoulders relaxed from a tense position, though he tried not to show it so visibly. “That’s all I ask.”
Vacura crossed her arms and looked down, dark brown hair covering over pasty cheekbones that lead to a pointy jaw. “If you do here from me,” she started. “Just know it would come at a greatest price.”
The words rang empty as far as Nario was concerned. He wouldn’t be the one making any decisions about what would follow. For that he was thankful. He also didn’t want to put all his eggs in one basket. The fact that he had been ordered to essentially scrounge for the aid of the corporations gave a bitter taste in his mouth. The worst of the corporations. Orcus.
It wasn’t certain that she wouldn’t help. After all, it wasn’t as though the corporations would function just as well without the Federation there to assure them that they had a government body to fall back on. Either way, the decision rested in the hands of Vacura. Whatever she decided would be the fate of all the other corporations. They were bound by the backhand agreements each of them made with each other out of spite to the CPF.
Common areas of Clere looked like the most cramped of undercity dwellings. It was a gamble on whether the patrons in the crowd would recognize his face. By the advice of Lortain, Nario had slapped an unsuspecting cap on his head. It was a compromise. He didn’t want to Nario being noticed but just as equally uncomfortable.
“Alright, let’s try here,” Nario said, stopping in front of a rugged cantina. The flickering tacky red lights atop the open doors reading Bladeos Inora. No clue what the words meant, but the place was busy. How couldn’t it be? The streets barely left enough room for everyone to walk.
Nario wanted sometime to wind down. A drink would help do that. The accompanying marines didn’t bat an eye to it. They all had been thinking it, just wouldn’t dare suggest it to an officer. This way it would work out for all of them.
Nario sat down at a sad excuse for a bar ledge. Cheap carbonboard hung off of it sloppily, a chipped black finish that was probably hand glued together by the look of it.
Lortain joined him. He gestured to the bartender, crossing his index and middle finger and pointing them down at the bar ledge. The bartender handed him a small shot glass of a clear liquor mixture. The stumpy marine threw the glass over his mouth, downing the drink with one gulp. “Now that’s a kicker,” he squinted. “want one?” he signaled the bartender once more.
Nario didn’t refuse. The concoction went down as hard as he imagined it would, creating the sour face that he had just seen on Lortain’s grizzly yet young face.
It was something the local inhabitants liked. A liquor substitute that overcompensated by a strong more pungent burn. It did the trick.
After a few of them, the effects started to be overbearing. Lortain seemed to cope with the intoxication fairly well. Nario and Lortain joined the other marines down at a table that was placed comfily in a corner looking out into the rest of the cantina. The marines wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would Nario. Not in a place like this. Not on a planet like this.
The bar continued to fill up. The later it got, the unrulier the patrons started to look. By the third hour, what was left was the low paid port workers and gun toting enforcers that lived off of per diem from corporations. It never lasted long. It couldn’t have with the length of the day on Titan. But it made sense that companies would keep their so
-called cops stretched thin. It didn’t make a difference; it was better than most people were getting paid in the Brink.
Nario felt good around the grunts. In some way, it brought him back to his days on duty. He would be reassigned every so often to another ship, but his squad was always with him. Most of them were gone now. Just about everyone except Rhion and a woman named Chiana who settled down after leaving the navy. He knew her as William back then.
The group left the cantina to a subtle day light that was gradually fading. It had dimmed but the sun was still out. Crowds had thinned, and finally Nario could see a little further ahead of himself. At least to the edge of the street.
A light at the end of it began to brighten. A deep blue color.
He squinted to see if it would help in telling what it was. Before he could squint any more a blaster shot buzzed past his head. The marines in front of him pulled out their blasters on instinct. Most of them taking after one another, hiding them in hip clips beneath their jackets.
More shots began to riddle his vision. He hated this being one of those days he thought it unnecessary to bring a firearm.
“What’s going on?” he said, his speech admittedly slurred. As he could see figures approach shooting at them, Lortain pulled him into cover behind a staircase ledge.
“Leah, take point,” Lortain said. Pulling up and laying covering fire as she moved into a forward position.
The three other marines followed her ahead and began returning fire. Lortain plopped back down next to Nario and gave a slight shake to his head. “I think you’ve gotten your answer Ambassador,” he said, slowly edging back over the ledge. The crowds fumbled around dodging every which way, the screams not loud enough to muffle the blaster sounds.
It was clear, at least under the circumstances, that Vacura wanted him dead. There could be dozens of reasons why. All of them pointed to gaining an advantage over the federation.
“Andrews is down!” yelled one of the privates. The barrage continued. More men gathering themselves on both sides of the group. Private Billas and Private First-Class Lowe switched sides. Nothing but the service blasters to battle with. It looked like a warzone Nario had once been a part of. Only he couldn’t be of any helped, as much as he wanted to.
Lortain darted from behind the ledge firing off what he had left in his thermal cell. He ducked next to Leah who was shooting at the enforcers coming from the east. Her thermal clip nearly depleted by the alert on the side of the weapon.
A soft sound of wind grew and the air around them slowly cycled as though a turbine were above them, Nario squinted into the light, a CPF Marauder gliding above him. A side hatch opened up to two marines armed with heavy blasters bearing down on the armed attackers. The pilot made it a point to slowly yaw the butt of the marauder. It gave them the opportunity to take out all of assailants on each side.
The ship was too big to set down but did so at a port not far from the district.
Nario galloped around the aftermath. Two marines were dead. Private Billas and Private Andrews. It was a commonplace that no Federal death would go without a burial. The constant transition from planet to planet made space burials an unfortunate popularity in the navy. Often angering the families of those who served and had lost their lives. Nario had seen it numerous times during his service. He ordered med teams back to gather the two bodies. From there they would be launched in ceremony from aboard their previously assigned ships. For Andrews and Billas, that was the CPF Alan Goft.
Back aboard the Venture, Nario conferenced with Odessa, Erusha, and Rhion via his visual com link in his cabin. All of them in different places. The attempt on his life made things much more complicated. Not only could he rule out Vacura and the other corporate head’s as an aid to the war effort, but by federal law, an act such as that was to be dealt with by a full-scale outer-planet offensive. Attacking an ambassador of the cooperative planet federation only gave naval generals a reason to push the matter.
“What is to be done about the outer planets?” Erusha asked, addressing everyone on the call. He never had the answers to any of the questions. He was only a shadow of his father, not a leader.
“We don’t have the resources to handle two fronts,” Odessa said. His face sour to the sound of the news. Nario knew enough about him to know what he was going to say next, and it would mean some pulled strings on behalf of himself.
“This is a matter that needs to be dealt with quickly. Ambassador Lobin, I imagine you can attain aid from our allies in the Palios Cluster?” He was referring to the star systems that surrounded the Lanx.
“Are you out of your mind?” Rhion yelled quite vocally. “To think of something that stupid.”
“Gentlemen,” Erusha interjected. “Ambassador, I’ll leave you to your duties.”
The Chancellor and Odessa left the call. The two of the hologram windows disappearing, leaving Rhion’s to expand to full screen.
“Where are you now?” Nario asked. He slumped over the desk chair.
“Portside of Glima Station,”
“How soon will they finish asteroid outfits out there?” Something about talking of asteroid mine armament produced a murmur in Nario’s chest. A dire situation he’d rather not think about. It didn’t impede his reasoning. Or so he would hope so.
Rhion didn’t respond right away. “Maybe two to three weeks, I’m not really sure,” he said in a stuttering manner.
“I need you to get a message out,”
Rhion shook his head in the negative. “To Corrinne.” One of the few times in their friendship of him doing so. “Look, I know she is out facing who knows what, but get a hold of yourself.” Rhion sighed. “You have things to focus on. We’re talking about an actual galactic war brewing D.L” His tone was all too paternal for Nario’s liking. Rhion knew him too well not to see what he wanted.
“I need you to do this for me,” Nario insisted. He gave him unwavering eyes as a token of how serious he was.
Rhion wiped at his mouth looking down. A reluctance apparent between the both of them. “I’ll see what I can do,”
“That’s all I ask,”
“What do you want me to say?”
Nario paused for a moment, the words were important. Although Rhion had a pretty good network to get subspace tight-beam messages anywhere on a private terminal, the message had to be simple and direct.
Nario knew what he wanted to tell her. “I love her,” he said. “And that I’m ready.”
Chapter 29: S’tiri
So much debris wandered empty space. None of which were distinct enough to identify. A cauldron of destruction painted an oblique account of what had happen in the wake up S’tiri’s treacherous actions. The small flotilla of ships that were now in service of S’tiri stopped just outside of monitoring range S’tiri remembered and divided into separate groups.
S’tiri stood with Pyx, both of them glaring into the orbit of Mulaya. “We’re too late,” S’tiri mumbled. He was staring at what he feared would come of his kind.
Illa’s orotund voice blazed over the com, “I have an unidentified ship on scanners. I can go in closer for an internal reading.”
“Proceed,” S’tiri said.
“It’s drifting. Looks derelict,” Illa said.”
A menacing ship could be seen. Large and sharp. A hull that had all of the appearance of one that forged in battle. S’tiri peeped as close as he could at the image. Something about the ship boggled his mind and felt ominously familiar.
“We’re going aboard,” S’tiri said.
S’tiri took lead walking toward the lift. With no hesitation Nilus, Pyx, and Garrek followed.
In the hangar S’tiri geared up. Something he was much more used to than what he recalled wearing in his fit of uncontrollable indoctrination. For precaution each of them strapped up heavy armor equipped with life support chambers for prolonged vacuum exposure. Nuri stayed behind on the Zeylon for good measure. In case any one of them needed to get pulled out. The ship had
no visible docking tube. It was either a product of its Draul retrofit or had been blown off. The latter being more likely to S’tiri. Illa had edged the ship close enough that the four of them could jet across.
“How far?” Nilus asked. He opened the inner hatch, Pyx and Garrek following towards the armor suits that hung on each side. Each of them different in color and appearance. Most of S’tiri’s merc crew had brought their own aboard in time. Pyx herself had took the liberty of bringing aboard any supplies she needed.
Illa responded over the link, “You have a few hundred feet. I’ll keep us here for as long as I can, the shields will hold fine.”
The four chambered jets on each of the armor mounts hugged the retrial armor plates. S’tiri’s was an extra the Gaultians typically left aside for necessary replacements. For that, it was slightly oversized, but came with internal accommodators to fit his form. It was enough to make it a bit snugger without squeezing him.
Nilus punched the inner airlock control panel as lightly as he could. It blinked a hollow blue and opened. Debris of all sizes flew in place at seemingly unnoticeable speeds. Serrated edges of destroyed ships stuck out like sharp sword edges. S’tiri took noticed of those of which tumbled in the vacuum so silently that its danger seemed to far removed to be worrisome.
“There it is,” Pyx said with a gentle hiss.
Surprisingly, the airlock hatch was visible in the midst of the gliding debris. A few clear white hatch lights made a recognizable triangle of luminescence. The lights being on had to mean some sort of secondary power was working aboard the ship.
“I’ll go,” Nilus said as he pressed his fingers to the right forearm armor, bringing up a display of suit controls and raised suit maneuverability. “I’ve done this before.”
He jumped out first, his beefy limbs floating motionless. As he furthered from the ship it became clearer how much smaller he was compared to some of the desolate pieces of wreckage. After drifting for a few meters, his jets sprung at attention, pointing back at them spewing a scolding lithium mixture fuel. Its white radiance, gentle and silent in the unforgiving black.