by Martin Perry
“And if we’re bankrupt then I won’t be able to keep our pair of waiters in sandals,” offered Marc 14, gulping down a mouthful of wine, a few dribbles seeping out of his wide mouth.
“We...” Champion threw 14 a look that caught Maur off-guard. “I mean, that is to say the crew of Jump Cannon, can’t afford for missions to go awry for at least the next year.”
Marc 14 was such an odd creature, Maur thought. There was a floaty quality to his movements. The pitch and tone of his voice was odd too. Lunark’s always sounded friendly but were formal at the same time. Even when Josia 24’s voice had boomed through Annie, rage in every word, there was still a professional edge to it. Marc 14, on the other hand, was open and unabashed in his speech. During tense moments on the command deck the lunark had used human swear words, something Maur had never heard somebody from Lunarkan do. There was no stalwart, fusty guardedness with 14. He laid himself out for everybody to see.
Where he laid at night was another matter, as nobody aboard had ever been very sure. Rumours said that he slept at the tactical panel with his eyes open – the one place on-board where he became rigid. Maur didn’t believe that at all, but could offer no better explanation than the lunark running non-stop shifts, only occasionally snoozing.
“So, keep it clean,” said Champion, “and remember what I said about staying there overnight. The lack of sun makes it difficult to know when you should stop partying, so don’t start.”
They ate the rest of the meal with a mix of friendly banter. Marc 14 got tipsy, and the hands began to wave even more widely. Even Dr. Beat made a few attempts at jokes, equally as bad as Champion's. It was a good start to the evening, and every member of Beta Crew wanted it to keep going rather than being banished to the scouts and Seeon’s surface. The near-quantum engines cut out, Annie’s hum changing, and a shout came down from the deck.
“Ah, our short stop before Seeon. Excellent," said Champion, "if you could all join me by the window.”
With the slight confusion that falls before being given a surprise, they all complied, walking forward to the windows. Champion stood behind and initiated the ship-wide audio channel. Maur could see why they had stopped and was silenced by it.
“If all crew members could join me in looking out of the port windows, I would much appreciate it.”
Champion left dead air to allow his order to be completed, knowing that his entire crew would comply with even a polite request. Within his quarters though, the silence remained absolute.
“What you see now is called the Origin Nebula. You may well have heard of it, most who see it can't help but share the experience. It's not on any trade route though, and we've had to make a bit of a deviation to come here. We can thank the new engines for keeping us on time, but I felt it was important to come here.”
It swirled and twinkled. It looked like a glorious, beautiful multi-coloured dance in space.
“It is called the Origin Nebula because scientific research, old research mind and possibly not in the slightest bit credible, states that this is what the Milky Way might have looked like years before its formation represented anything we are now familiar with, albeit on a miniature scale. I wanted to bring you here. While this represents the birth of our home planet and all that surrounds it, this simple mission to Seeon represents the rebirth of another home for us all. Annie, the Jump Cannon, and all those who live and work aboard her, are now on a path to prosperity, adventure and happiness that I hope will never be hampered by evil again.
“I will be taking a more cautious stance on the missions I am willing to accept, and we will be venturing into less unknown territory. I never want to see my men and women face the adversity they did on that day again, and I will do everything to make sure this new beginning is as perfect as the nebula you see before you.
“With that I must make a special request. The Jump Cannon has always had a reputation for success; we have rarely failed to meet the demands of a mission. However, with a new draft of staff coming in once we reach Earth, I will need you all to ensure they understand how we do things. How we get our job done. I must also request that we maintain this excellent record, even in light of our newly capable ship. I do not wish to find ourselves rolling around in a rust-bucket once more just because of carelessness. Now, if you'll forgive me for being so soft hearted, please return to your posts so we might complete the last of our journey. Thank you all.”
They arrived in Seeon's orbit within the hour, and as the glory of the Origin Nebula faded, Champion's message lasting, Maur consoled himself that, at the very least, he didn’t have to go through the rigmarole of suiting up in his armour. Being locked in one of the scouts all night would be unpleasant enough. The crew wandered, stomachs full, and made their way to the fleet of new scouts in the hangar. He jogged on ahead, cutting into maintenance to grab himself a tool set to take down in the scout with him before meeting up in front of the rear entrance to the vehicle. The door hissed open, cruising down to the ground. Tiny lights flicked on, one after another, and lit the interior in a perfect white light. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
With all of the lights on, Maur began to more clearly understand why the Jump Cannon was quite so poor currently. He had expected to find the usual rugged benches and harsh metal walls, only the first and co-pilot offering any luxury at the lead; the angular and plainly coloured exterior had promised no more. However, while there was still plenty of cold steel inside, there were also four bunks, two on either side, that sat above the benches themselves with soft leather-clad padding on top.
Panels throughout read off more information than Maur could dream of. This was heaven for a craft-head. No expense spared, yet again.
“Well, I think somebody might be trying to make a point again,” puffed out Kerra. “I certainly don’t want to fuck this up and end up back in the Trans-Orbital’s tin-cans.”
“Yes. Lets try not to cost the Captain the ship,” agreed Charles.
They all filed in, kit bags dumped onto bunks to lay claim to a bed. Kerra made an effort to guarantee herself the cot above Maur’s. She was feeling merry still, and less scared to make gestures beyond those usually afforded a teammate. She hadn’t quite reached the point of being flirty, that was a difficult stance for a soldier like her to adopt, but she was certainly open to suggestion.
Charles and Maur took to the pilot seats, being even more comfortable than usual. The soft padding curved around them, supporting their backs and moving itself as they shifted forward and back tapping the all encompassing panel that stretched around them.
Maur engaged the lower propulsion, spits and spatters starting before the scout shifted into a steady hover. The warning signal sounded, and the safety pods at the edges of the hangar bay opened themselves to a crew that wasn’t there. Each of the entrances sealed, all of this protection against the possible vacuum of space should the hull ever fail in battle. Creaking, lubrication not yet caked around its joints, the bay opened and Maur slid the scout outside the safety of Annie’s interior. They were in the black, and the rear-view panel in front of him showed their pristine home become smaller and smaller. Ahead, the permanent darkness of Seeon’s most profitable hemisphere offered a multi-colour version of the vacuum around them, simple white stars giving way to a full spectrum of show and spectacle.
Charles shifted the propulsion up a gear, beginning the push through the atmospheric layers that blocked their entrance onto the planet. The scout shook slightly, as did Kerra and Thom while they tried out the bunks. In all, however, the descent was much more pleasant than in Annie’s old crafts and Maur was in his element. Unnecessarily he swung her from left to right, making obstacles out of innocent clouds to try out the mobility of the new scout.
“We should give her a name,” said Charles, in a matter of fact tone, tapping the arm of his chair.
“Buxom Betty?” joked Thom, a serious tone poorly masking his puerile attempt at humour.
Kerra hopped down from her b
unk and joined Maur and Charles at the front of the scout. Resting her arms on the top of Maur’s chair, he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. It made his hair stand on end.
“Hypatia,” offered Kerra.
“Hypatia?” quizzed Thom.
“Yeah. It’s a name I heard a while back. I like it. It’s supposed to be the name of somebody who was way beyond their time. It fits, those are some comfy bunks for a scout.”
“It sounds like you’ve sneezed,” said Thom.
“Hypatia,” mused Charles. “I like it. We’re getting good at this name game.”
The newly christened ship made its way down to port, the bustling metropolis of Moderate Formai spreading out in full view of her passengers. You could see the party from ten miles up.
While the dark sun never rises,
While our hearts become black like the day sky,
You will stay with me,
You will join with me,
To salute the memory of our sin.
We had poison in our blood,
We had trickery in our minds,
We will rebuild,
We will construct a monument,
A twisted memorial for our damnation.
When it stands tall,
When we cleanse ourselves of corruption,
Moderation will stand strong,
Deny the return of transgression,
Regulate, restrict, reconcile.
Words etched into the arch-way entrance of The Moderate Council of Seeon. The group was established to avoid history repeating itself and plunging Seeon into further war. Unfortunately the last three decades have seen them lose sight of this goal.
Chapter Eleven
“So Thom...” Kerra said, breaking the silence of their descent, calm and quiet after the magnificence of the Origin Nebula.
“Hmm?” he replied, in something of a dream.
“You couldn't have gotten us steaks too?”
“Hah. It was just the luck of the draw I'm afraid, there wasn't enough to go round.”
“That seems unlikely,” she replied. “Pretty sure you wouldn't dare to put those gels down in front of Champion.”
“Luck of the draw, I promise. Anyway, shouldn't you take a seat before re-entry? Wouldn't want you to bring up that perfectly edible meal you just had.”
“Whatever.” Kerra continued to stand.
Seeon filled their view. Like the nebula it glittered and flashed, but it offered none of the beauty. They all knew what sort of place it was, and that knowledge stirred up different sentiments from each of the people on the craft. It hurtled forward, the first bumps of turbulence bumping into them.
“You probably should take a seat, this might get rough,” Maur said, beginning to grin.
“Entry into Seeon get rough? They blasted the weather system to shit. There's barely a gust of wind most of the time.”
“Your choice.”
Panels flashed with information as the most troublesome part of their entry began. While she was mostly right, Kerra was surprised herself at how rocky the road was. She attributed it to their scout’s diminutive size.
“We’re good for trajectory and speed, launching retros to start the slow-down,” said Maur, turning away from Kerra and towards his panel once more. “Retros launched.”
The under-side propulsion fired up again. Used for hovering, it also served to slow them down as they prepared to land. Outlines of their target area flashed up on the window in front, plotting out three vacant landing spots. Charles busily tapped away at his panel as the state-of-the-art craft selected its destination and began to adjust, making work for himself rather than providing any vital function. New misbehaviour occurred to Maur, and he acted on impulse trying to impress.
“I think we need to fly in manually,” he said, tapping his panel to bring forward the projection of a flight stick in front of him. “Lots of turbulence. We might miss the landing.”
“Maur! What the hell are you talking about? This is plenty smooth...” Kerra shouted. She was right and sure of it, even with her surprise at the rocky road.
“Nope. Definitely turbulent,” he retorted, beginning to position the craft at his own hands, trying to keep the green octagon inside the red octagon in front of him. He was doing a decent job.
“You sure about this?” laughed Charles.
“Dude! You can’t feel that turbulence?” Maur joked.
Thom’s silence was noticeable, evidently he wasn’t a fan of the plan but didn’t want to cause disagreement. Kerra started playfully slapping Maur. His hands firmly gripping the sim flight stick, he was helpless. She giggled, and it felt good.
Charles tapped away again, this time releasing the wheels from the underside. There was a low buzz as they swung underneath the main carriage of the scout. The ground was approaching them at a decent speed now, Maur letting the octagons uncouple a few times as the air pressure buffeted them a little. It seemed like a poorer idea now that the landing was imminent. Still, he had to see it through.
Kerra tripped over her own feet after a powerful shudder, landing hard on her coccyx. Maur strained his neck for a second, wondering if his plan was back-firing.
She laughed. “You’re going to pay for that Maur. My ass is fucking aching.”
With relief their wheels bumped down with a final blast of retroactive propulsion, the scout jilting in the air before dropping onto the firm platform. Maur, breathing again, took his hands off the stick and it disappeared. He lay back in his seat and decided to take in some of the accolade he had earned. There was a single bead of sweat on his forehead that he hoped Kerra wouldn’t notice.
“What would you do with out me?” he asked the inhabitants of the scout, though directing it toward her.
“Rely on the perfectly adequate systems?” Kerra said, standing up, still chuckling to herself. She punched Maur on the arm.
Maur gripped it in his hand, making a face feigning pain before turning back around and keeping an eye on his panel. Outside of the window, Moderate Formai was in full swing. The architecture of Seeon was significantly different from that of Pura. Any suggestion of ancient culture or pre-human interaction had been wiped clean by the extensive war that had ravaged the planet for years. Large, white curving plastic tents sat in neat rows. Each had four legs that bent down into the ground, giving them the appearance of square parachutes fixed into place.
The real structure was in the energy fields that filled the gaps. These fields, which looked like softly rippling walls of flame, would change colour and solidity based on the individual settings of the inhabitant. Advertisements and promises of a good time scrolled across many; they were in the heart of the entertainment district after all. In the distance, billowing above the others, Maur could make out the Moderate Council’s headquarters. It wasn’t imposing, the entire city and most of Seeon looking like a well-developed refugee camp.
“I can believe that they don’t get rid of these things,” huffed Kerra. “You’d think they’d want to be rid of the memories after the war came to an end.”
“Why get rid of them? They are low-cost and efficient,” said Charles, eschewing emotion in favour of logic.
“Efficient huh? Just like the genocidal assholes that used to run this place?”
Kerra was aggravated, and Charles should have known better than question her on beliefs surrounding Seeon. She wore the wounds of witnessing the seetan massacres on her sleeve. Everybody knew she still struggled with the memories.
“Look, before we get our panties in a twist,” Maur chose his words poorly, and gained a dagger look in reward. “Lets just find some place to park up. I want to play about with the settings.”
“Yawn.” Kerra didn’t look pleased, and sulked off into her bunk. A few ruffles later and she had wrapped herself away from Seeon.
The scout bumbled along the road, party-goers idly throwing drinks against the hard shell of the craft. None of them meant any harm, plastic drinks mugs would never even sc
ratch the paint, but it annoyed Charles regardless. He saw it as idle thuggery, unnecessary unkindness designed only to make a fool of them. The consequence was that a few drunken bodies had to be pulled away from Hypatia as she rolled through the streets, little credence given to them or the possible maiming that would be suffered because of Charles’ unwillingness to give way.
Flashy colours and graphic visual promises scanned in and out of view, the tents detecting their presence and attempting to target them with appropriate offerings. It was obvious that they were mercenary, Hypatia designed to take a beating and clearly so. As such the buildings flicked to advertisements of one of two things. The occupants were apparently only permitted to be interested in buying sex or enough arms to equip a nation. Both at discount, rock bottom prices. Neither from anybody that sounded reputable.
Maur wondered how the Moderate Council failed to see all of this, how badly they were failing to limit the spread of the negative influences they blamed for the planet’s downfall years ago. It was surrounding them, and were it not for the luxurious, upper-class residences that circled their headquarters, the Council would have arms traders and sex workers offering their wares on their doorstep. He could still see the massive dome ahead, Seeon’s crest circling on the sides. It used to be ornate, a circular shield that depicted some of the planets greatest achievements. Now it was a simple white square, with a junction of two lines in the middle. They were broken close to the end, and gave the impression of two crossed exclamation marks. A warning against sin, one that was not being paid any heed.
There was silence as Charles positioned the scout down an alleyway. Two large tents with blacked-out sides stood on either side of them and the exterior lights were powered down. With the engines silenced Maur stood up and followed Charles away from the front of Hypatia.