by Joe Vasicek
Hikaru stared at her, but the captain met her eyes and returned her gaze without flinching. She bit her lip and drew in a sharp breath.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, lifting her nose in disdain. “I can’t spend the rest of my life in a cage.”
“Then don’t.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
Danica finished her tea and set the cup and saucer carefully down on the table. “You spend far too much time feeling sorry for yourself, Princess. If you’d open your eyes, you’d see that none of it is warranted. The palace guard won’t let you travel off-world, but that’s to be expected when there’s a war going on. Instead of focusing on all the things you can’t do, focus on the things you can, and take advantage of them. I guarantee, you’re not a prisoner—no matter how much you want to believe otherwise.”
“And what does a mercenary like you know about palace life?”
Danica grinned. “I wasn’t always a mercenary, you know. My father was an admiral in the Tajji Revolutionary Guard. I know what it’s like to grow up with strict social obligations.”
“Oh, sure,” said Hikaru, rolling her eyes.
“It’s true. When my father went to war, he made me promise to stay behind, even though I wanted to join him. When he was captured, I broke that promise—and never saw my family again.”
Just get the lecture over with, Hikaru thought to herself, eyes glazing over.
Danica paused for a moment, then rose to her feet. “We arrive at New Vela in just a few hours. We’ll make a quick stop to take on fuel and supplies, then head straight for New Rigel. In the meantime, I urge you to think carefully about what you’re asking. As much as you want to feel sorry for yourself, we’re not sending you back to a prison.”
That’s what you think, Hikaru thought to herself. Instead, she gave the captain a curt bow and walked out the door.
* * * * *
“Stand by,” said Yuri. “Initiating jump in three, two, one—”
Roman took a deep breath and shut down his external senses once again. As he floated in the soundless white space, his thoughts drifted to the princess. She seemed so vibrant and full of life—such a contrast to the man he had become over the long, hard years. Of course he was too old for her, but that was precisely why he found her company so refreshing. It almost made him wish he had something to live for—but no, he was much too old for that. Better to have something to die for.
He opened his eyes and returned to physical consciousness, just in time to hear Yuri swear. Outside the forward window, the giant orb of New Vela II filled their view—only instead of the lush blue-green world it was before, dark clouds of black and gray shrouded the entire surface. He leaned forward and frowned, narrowing his eyes, as the soft silent flashes of distant explosions echoed in the distance.
“Lieutenant Avanadze, what is the situation?” Danica asked, her voice as hard as steel.
“It—it’s the second planet alright,” said Yuri, his cheeks turning pale, “but the whole sector is swarming with—”
“Hameji,” said Roman, clenching his fists.
Danica fixed her eyes out the window and slowly rose to her feet. Outside, dozens of cannon-like ships pointed downward at the planet, shooting enormous chunks of space rock directly at the surface below. Roman’s arm tensed, and blood rose to his natural cheek as unexpected rage clouded his vision. He knew exactly what he was seeing—knew all too well.
“Two capital ships are bearing down on us,” said Rina, her voice cracking ever so subtly. “They appear to be moving in for an attack—we don’t have much time.”
“Avanadze, get us the hell out of here,” said Danica.
“On the secondary drive, Captain?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“Very well. Stand by—”
Roman clenched his fists as he stared out the window at the scene of destruction below. Debris from the battle streaked across the upper atmosphere, plunging to the shrouded surface of the dying world. Not far from their position, a mass accelerator shot a chunk of space rock directly into the water, kicking up a giant plume of white and brown spray that made the ocean boil. He stared in rapt fascination, his rage building at the scope of it all. It was like watching an old holo, or a newsreel from the Hameji conquest of Tajjur V—except that this time, he was witnessing it in person.
It’s just like home, Rina transmitted to him through her datalink. I can’t watch, I’m sorry. I’m going to be sick.
Lieutenant? he answered, glancing over his shoulder. Her hands were clasped over her mouth, and her cheeks turned a sickly pale green.
“Get down to medical at once, Lieutenant,” he told her aloud.
She nodded gratefully and hurried off the bridge. Danica shot her a brief inquisitive look, but soon returned her attention to command.
“The ships are launching fighters, Captain,” said Zura, glancing over the scanners. “Estimated time to attack: ten seconds.”
“Coordinates set,” said Yuri. “Jumping in three, two, one—”
This time, Roman didn’t have time to switch off his physical sensory inputs. A tingling sensation spread across his prosthetics, like static electricity building up for a tremendous release. He tensed and closed his eyes, and his stomach dropped out as the walls began to close in all around him. For a brief moment, he felt as if he had been turned inside out, or as if the prosthetics were controlling him instead of the other way around—but then, the feeling passed, the tingling stopped, and he was back on the bridge of the Tajji Flame, staring at the scanners.
“Jump complete,” said Yuri. “We’re out.”
“Scanners are blank, Captain,” said Roman, quickly checking over Rina’s display. “It appears we are alone in this sector. Your orders?”
Danica let out a long, heavy breath, deflating ever so slightly before regaining her iron composure. All around the bridge, anxious eyes turned on her, desperate for her guidance.
“We can’t push on to New Rigel,” she said. “No doubt the whole sector is crawling with interdictors—the last thing we need is to jump into the middle of a Hameji battle fleet.”
“Then perhaps we should stay here,” Yuri suggested. “We’re about a thousand light-hours from New Rigel—if we shut down all but our most vital systems, we might be able to wait it out.”
“That won’t work” said Mikhail. “We’ve been out for so long, we need to resupply. I’d give us 72 hours before we start to face some critical shortages.”
“What, we can’t fabricate what we need?”
“It’s not the ship that’s in danger,” he replied. “It’s us. We’re running out of foodstuffs, and the synthesizers don’t have enough proteins to keep running for very long. If the situation doesn’t change soon—”
“That’s enough,” said Danica, cutting them both off. “Let’s stay focused on the situation at hand. We can’t stay long at our current position, and we can’t move forward. Since we’re carrying a high level prisoner, we have to assume that the Hameji are in pursuit.”
“Then we’re lost,” said Yuri. “There’s nothing we can do. Is there?”
Danica took a deep breath, her face a mask. She doesn’t know what to do, Roman realized.
“How much time before the jump drives recharge?” she asked.
Yuri checked his screen. “A few hours.”
“Then there’s nothing we can do until then anyway. Roman, take command—I’ve got some thinking to do.”
With that, she rose to her feet and left the bridge. The door hissed shut behind her, leaving them all in stunned silence.
“I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one,” Mikhail muttered.
“But we will, Corporal,” Roman snapped at him. Even if some of us must die.
Chapter 13
Abaqa stirred as the sound of groaning metal announced a visitor. He yawned and sat up, rubbing his back where the hard metal cot had made him sore.
“Avanadze
? What are you doing here?”
“You’re relieved, Private.”
“But Lieutenant—”
The men fell into a harsh, throaty dialect that Abaqa couldn’t understand. From the tone of their voices, though, something was definitely wrong.
At length, footsteps sounded in the hallway, and the door to the brig hissed shut. The newcomer stepped up to the metal grating of his cell. Abaqa frowned—whoever was there, he hadn’t switched on the lights for his visit. Instead, he punched in the combination and swung the door open into the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Abaqa asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.
The man hesitated for a moment in the doorway, like a cat making ready to pounce. Abaqa rose to his feet, but before he could react, the man grabbed his throat and shoved him against the opposite wall.
“You Hameji bastard,” he hissed, his face only inches from Abaqa’s. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t wipe the floor with your face.”
“Wh-what are you t-talking about?” Abaqa stuttered. He tried to free himself, but the man’s grip tightened, choking him off.
“You think there’s nothing wrong with murdering billions of people? With turning entire worlds into slag heaps? That just because you were born on some shithole of a starship, that makes you better than the rest of us?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
The man slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to the floor. He doubled over in pain, gasping desperately for air.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about, you Hameji bastard! You know damn well!”
A steel-capped toe slammed into Abaqa’s side, sending a bolt of pain through his arm and shoulder. He curled up to shield himself, barely in time to prevent another blow from striking him in his kidney.
“Stop!” he cried out in terror. “Please, don’t hurt me!”
“You think we didn’t cry for mercy?” the man screamed, his voice hoarse with rage. “When you took our homeworld and brought your machines of death—do you think we didn’t beg for mercy?”
He reached down and lifted Abaqa up high enough to ram his head into the floor. Stars spun across his vision, and for a brief terror-filled moment, he felt as if he were floating. The man slammed a fist against his jaw, bringing tears of pain to his eyes.
“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do anything!”
“It doesn’t matter—you’re still one of them.”
Abaqa scrambled to get away from the man, but he grabbed him by his collar and threw him onto his back. He covered his face with his hands, but the man straddled him like a wrestler and shoved the blade of his wrist into his throat.
“You Hameji bastards are all the same. The crimes of your race are too heinous to forgive. For what you did at New Vela, for what you did to the Gaians—for what you’ve done to me and my people, none of you deserve to live.”
At that moment, the lights flashed on, making Abaqa squint. The door to the cell creaked on its hinges, and the old cyborg lifted the man to his feet.
“Avanadze—what is meaning of this?”
The man shrugged him off. “Just giving the prisoner a lesson, Roman—a lesson he damn well won’t forget.”
Abaqa’s lip quivered as the old cyborg stared down at him. He tried to blink away the tears welling up in his eyes, but he failed to hide his weakness. Like a little boy on his first long trip away from his mother, he broke down and silently began to cry.
“What sort of lesson?”
“A history lesson, Sergeant. The way those Hameji bastards—”
“Then let me give you history lesson, Lieutenant. When your mother was still virgin, those who wore the colors of Free Tajjur did not torture small boys.”
The man drew himself up as if to strike, but Roman stared him down. Grumbling to himself, he turned and left the cell, his footsteps echoing through the brig.
“I am sorry,” said the old cyborg. He reached down and helped Abaqa to his feet. “Come, let me get you to doctor.”
“I’ll be fine,” Abaqa muttered, rubbing his eyes. He turned his face to hide his tears, even though it was probably too late.
“Yuri is man with long grudge,” Roman continued. “He has not forgiven Hameji for destruction of Tajjur V.”
“And you have?”
He grinned bitterly. “Of course not. But what difference does it make? When your fathers took Tajjur, you were not even born.”
“Why now? What’s going on out there?”
The grin disappeared from his face. “Less than one hour ago, we arrived at second planet of New Vela. The Hameji had just finished slagging it.”
Abaqa frowned. “You mean with the mass accelerators?”
“Yes. Just like Tajjur V.”
The news had a strange effect on Abaqa. He’d grown up hearing about the slagging of Gaia Nova and the legendary victory over the Empire that had made the Hameji supreme rulers of the galaxy. But that was history—this was much more real, much more immediate. And yet why was that so? He didn’t have anything to do with the slagging. It wasn’t on his orders that it had happened. And besides, it wasn’t like he actually knew any of the planetborn who had died there.
Perhaps not, he thought to himself. But my mother—she wasn’t always Hameji. What if he had been one of the planetborn trapped on the surface?
“Are you not well, Prince? Your face is white.”
“I’m fine,” said Abaqa. “Just—maybe something for the bruises.”
“Of course. Follow me—I will take you to doctor.”
“Right. Thanks.”
He followed the old cyborg out of the cell, holding his head with one hand. Neither of them said anything as they walked down the dim, narrow corridor, but for the first time in his life, Abaqa felt a pang of guilt for something that he had never done.
* * * * *
“Here’s something for your stomach,” said Doctor Avanadze, handing Rina a packet of small pills. “If you start to feel weak, it might be good to take some energy boosters, too.”
“Thanks,” said Rina. She slipped the pills into her pocket and rose to her feet. “Is there anything else?”
“No, everything checks out. Just a traumatic sight—it gets to the best of us.”
She smiled, but from the emotion in her eyes, Rina could tell it was forced. The slagging of New Vela had been a blow to all of them. No doubt the news had spread throughout the ship by now. The air already felt a little thicker, the mood a little darker. Even for a crew of mercenaries, the deaths of billions of people couldn’t pass without having some sort of an impact.
It wasn’t the deaths that got to her, though. It was the memories.
“Are we safe now?” Maia asked.
Rina paused. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. For helping her, the doctor deserved as much.
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Right. Well, good luck, Lieutenant.”
The door behind them hissed open, and the Hameji prince stepped in, a dark bruise covering the side of his face. Doctor Avanadze stiffened and narrowed her lips.
“What happened here, Sergeant?”
“Your husband,” said Roman. “After slagging of New Vela II, he decided to make visit to our prisoner.”
“I see.”
“Can you help him?”
She took a deep breath and turned to the boy. “I suppose. Here, have a seat on the table.”
The boy sat down on the examination table a bit sheepishly. Roman folded his arms and leaned against the wall.
What’s going on? Rina thought-spoke to him.
Just small quarrel. It was nothing.
I mean on the bridge.
He grunted. We are safe for now. After you left, we made short range jump to random location in deep space. But our supplies are getting low, and we cannot stay put forever.
So where do we go from here?
I do not know. But if you have any ideas, I suggest you spea
k with the Captain.
Rina nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, turning back to her. “I’d better return to my post.”
Maia nodded. “Take care of yourself, Lieutenant. Good luck.”
As Rina stepped into the doorway, an idea occurred to her. She stopped and turned to Roman.
“When we jumped out, did we set the coordinates in the direction of New Rigel, or back towards the rift?”
The natural half of Roman’s mouth turned down in a frown. “Toward the rift, I think. Considering that was direction from where we came, it seemed safest to return.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
As she walked down the corridor towards the captain’s quarters, the datalink buzzed in her mind. Why do you ask?
Because I think I know of a place we can go, she replied.
What sort of place?
She took a deep breath as an image of Admiral Genjiro returned unbidden to her mind. Shivers ran down her back, and her mouth began to salivate—even after so much time, the desire to kill was so strong that it surprised her. She shut off the datalink before accidentally betraying herself, and her legs went strangely weak for a moment. After stopping to lean against the wall, though, she soon recovered.
The rogue planet, she thought to herself. The secret Federation base within the rift—yes, that was a place where they could safely hide until the Hameji passed over. And if there was one thing she knew well, it was how to disappear into the shadows.
* * * * *
Hikaru stopped at the old metal door with CPTN stenciled on it in large black letters. The chime sounded twice before the door opened, and then, it wasn’t Danica who walked out, but one of the younger officers—a black-haired girl who was even shorter than the princess.
“Pass the co-ordinates on to Roman,” came Danica’s voice from further inside. “I’ll be on the bridge shortly.”
“Right.”
The girl gave Hikaru one brief look before slipping past her and hurrying silently down the corridor. For a second, Hikaru hesitated, unsure whether to go inside or try another time.