by G J Ogden
“It looks like a chunk of this spaceport is devoted to Fletcher’s ships and crew,” said Sterling, peering up at the neon sign. In addition to the words, there was a picture of a black cat with a white chest sitting on a piece of debris floating in an ocean.
“I have to admit, I half-expected people with pitchforks chasing after us by now,” said Banks, glancing around the exterior of the bar.
The bar was busy with numerous drinkers standing outside, chatting and smoking. No-one paid Sterling and Banks any attention, despite their Fleet uniforms and the modern Fleet warship on-stand a couple of hundred meters away. Suddenly, the distinctive howl of a beagle filtered out of the door, which was still open by a crack. Sterling saw Banks’ tense up and his first officer immediately pushed inside, presumably worried that Jinx was in trouble. Sterling cursed and followed her in, hoping that their first act on Bastion wasn’t getting into a bar fight. However, it soon became apparent that there was no cause for concern. The dog’s curious vocalizations were howls of happiness rather than distress. Jinx was merrily playing a game of “fetch” with Fletcher and several of the other patrons in the bar, all of whom wore similar outfits to that of the famous Fleet mutineer. The dog was clattering across the wooden floor of the bar in pursuit of an old tennis ball. The sound of her feet on the hard floor was accentuated by the fact that one of her legs was a metal, cybernetic replacement. However, the dog appeared entirely unconcerned by this fact and carried on as if nothing about her body had changed.
“See, everyone loves a ship’s dog,” said Banks, moving further inside and drawing up a stool at the bar.
“Not everyone,” Sterling hit back, pulling up a stool beside his first officer.
“You’re just the exception that proves the rule,” said Banks, smiling.
Fletcher noticed that Sterling and Banks had entered and tossed the ball to another member of his crew, who continued the game.
“Captain, Commander, what can I get you?” Fletcher asked, leaning on the bar beside them. “It’s on the house, considering I own the bar and all.”
“Thank, you, Mister Fletcher,” replied Sterling, but the old Fleet officer was quick to interject.
“Please, either Chris or preferably Fletch,” the older man said. “No-one calls me Mister Fletcher except the rookies, and even then, I hate it.”
“Okay, Fletch,” Sterling said, feeling immediately more at ease. “We’ll take whatever is good. Your choice.”
Fletcher nodded then spoke to the barman, who placed three small wine glasses on the counter before moving off to fetch whatever the former officer had asked for. However, it was Fletcher’s mention of “rookies” that had really piqued Sterling’s interest, rather than the mystery drink he was about to be served. Fletcher had previously hinted that the forces under his command numbered more than just the thirteen mutineer ships. Yet he didn’t want to immediately start off by grilling the man so soon after he’d warmly extended his hospitality toward them.
The barman returned and uncorked a bottle of port wine that looked at least as old as Fletcher’s venerable warship.
“I haven’t seen a bottle of port for a long time,” said Sterling, accepting one of the glasses from Fletcher.
“I don’t think I’ve seen one ever,” remarked Banks, peering at the ruby red liquid.
“It’s an old tradition from sea-faring nations of Earth’s history,” Fletcher said, finally picking up his own glass. “We had to invent, or at least repurpose, a few traditions of our own when we separated from UG and the Fleet.” He raised his glass. “To a bloody war or a sickly season,” he said, before drinking from the glass.
Sterling and Banks frowned at each other but followed Fletcher’s lead and drank. The wine was sweet and – at least to Sterling’s uncultured palette – had a powerful kick to it too. Fleet ships had been prohibited from serving liquor since the outbreak of the Sa’Nerran war.
“Thank you again for responding to my request for aid,” Sterling said, setting the now half-empty glass down on the counter. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d come.”
Fletcher bowed his head then raised his glass again. “Well, you seem like a decent fellow,” the older man replied. “Besides, I still have more of a beef with those alien bastards than I do with Fleet.”
“Fleet could really do with someone like you right now,” Sterling said, unable to stay off the subject of Fletcher’s fighting force for long. “With the Sa’Nerran armada capturing G-sector, you command the only viable war fleet in the Void.”
“I’ll stop you right there, Captain,” Fletcher said, raising the palm of his hand to Sterling. “I have no problem helping you out, but my responsibility is to Bastion and Middle Star. If I take my Fleet from this system, there’s nothing to stop the Sa’Nerra rolling in and trying to finish the job they started back when I was a Lieutenant.”
“If Fleet loses this war, the Void will fall next,” Sterling countered.
“Then you’d better make sure you win it,” Fletcher replied with a smile. He took another swig of port and topped up all the glasses. “I know what you’re asking, Captain, and I understand why. But I can’t help you without abandoning these people, and that’s something I swore I’d never do, no matter what.”
This time it was Sterling who bowed his head and raised his glass. “I understand, Fletch,” he said, earnestly, “and I’ll see what I can do to help Bastion too. There must be the remnants of other Fleet outposts and hidden storage vaults on this planet and on Colony Two. I can give you the means to find and open them.”
“That would be appreciated, Captain, thank you,” Fletcher replied.
“Please, if I’m to call you Fletch then you can call me Lucas,” Sterling said, starting to feel uncomfortable at the older man’s formality. However, the veteran former officer just laughed and shook his head.
“A Lieutenant calling a Captain by his first name? Not a chance in hell!” Fletcher said, raising an eyebrow. “I may be a mutineer and a disgrace to the Fleet name, but old habits die hard.”
Jinx then came trotting over and dropped the tennis ball at Banks’ feet. The dog then sat down and peered up at her with its large, brown eyes. Fletcher laughed again and looked down at the cybernetically-enhanced hound.
“It looks like you have other duties to attend to, Commander,” Fletcher said, nodding toward the dog.
Banks downed the rest of her port then yielded to Jinx’s doe-eyed requests for attention. She picked up the ball and rolled it underneath the tables, sending Jinx scampering across the floor in pursuit.
“So, where to next, Captain?” Fletcher added, as Banks slid off her stool to continue the game with Jinx.
Sterling shrugged. “Back to Fleet space, if I can get there,” he replied. “Unfortunately, there’s an entire Sa’Nerran armada between us and F-sector.”
“Any idea how you’ll get past it?” Fletcher asked.
Just at that moment, Lieutenant Shade pushed in through the door. She scanned the room then met Sterling’s eyes and approached, appearing ill-at-ease in the crowded and bustling surroundings of the bar.
“I’m hoping my officer just walked in with the answer,” Sterling replied, acknowledging Shade’s arrival.
“I’ll leave you to it then, Captain Sterling,” Fletcher said, sliding off his stool. He then refilled Sterling’s glass and set off toward one of the tables occupied by his crew, bottle in hand.
“Mister Fletcher,” Sterling called out after the older man. The mutineer commander stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Fletch, I mean,” Sterling corrected himself. It still seemed wrong to refer to the man in such familiar terms. “I know you’re not able to join the fight, but if you were to…”
“I’m not, Captain,” Fletcher was quick to interject.
“I know, but indulge me,” Sterling hit back. The older man shrugged and nodded to him to continue. “If you were, just how many ships are we talking about? Whether with rookie or experienced crews?”
Fletcher smiled and Sterling could tell that the man was itching to reveal his secret. He could see that Fletcher was rightfully proud of what he’d achieved at Middle Star. Few large colonies had survived inside the Void. To hold back the Sa’Nerra by training his own crews, using only wrecked ships salvaged from the war, was no mean feat. However, age and experience had clearly also taught the former Fleet officer how to keep a secret.
“Nice try, Captain,” Fletcher replied as the tennis ball rolled past his feet, hotly pursued by Jinx. “But the only way you’ll find that out is to attack Middle Star.” The man smiled then continued toward his table before stopping and glancing back. “Though I wouldn’t recommend it,” Fletcher added.
Sterling conceded graciously then allowed the older man to retire to his new table. Shade then approached and stood to attention beside him.
“At ease, Lieutenant, this is a bar, not my ready room,” said Sterling. Shade appeared confused by the order then adjusted her stiff posture by the slightest fraction. Sterling assumed this was what constituted “relaxed” for Opal Shade.
“Sir, I’ve been analyzing the data from Admiral Griffin, but I cannot see how I am the key to unlocking a route back into Fleet space,” Shade announced. She sounded flustered and even a little embarrassed. Shade did not like to be defeated, whether in combat or any other challenge.
“What have you tried?” asked Sterling.
“Combinations of my name, date of birth, place of birth, parents, streets I used to live on, ships I’ve served on, commanding officers…”
Sterling held up a hand to stop Shade mid-flow. “I get the picture Lieutenant,” he said. Whether his weapons officer had succeeded or not, Sterling need not question her thoroughness. “We’re clearly missing something, so let’s roll everything back to the most important question of all.”
Shade’s frown hardened. “What question is that, Captain?”
“Why did Griffin choose you, of course,” replied Sterling.
However, Shade just shook her head. “I do not know, Captain.”
Sterling then sighed and decided to attempt a new and potentially awkward approach with his guarded weapon’s officer. He needed her to lower her shields.
“I’ll level with you, Lieutenant,” Sterling began. In addition to warming his insides, the port wine was also having the effect of lowering some of his own normally well-established emotional barriers. “Compared to the rest of my crew, I know very little about you,” Sterling went on, deciding that if he required openness from Shade, he’d need to be more open himself. “I know that you came to the Invictus straight out of Grimaldi Military Prison.” Shade’s gaze immediately fell to the floor as Sterling said this. “And I know that Griffin personally vouched for you and got you out so that you could serve as my weapons officer.” Shade had forced herself to meet her captain’s eyes again, though it was clearly difficult for her to do so. “What I don’t know, is why.”
Shade was silent for a moment as she processed what Sterling had said. Then she straightened to attention again, suddenly appearing more comfortable and much more her usual, imperious self.
“Admiral Griffin is my aunt, Captain,” Shade announced.
The Lieutenant was now speaking clearly and without awkwardness. She had clearly made a decision to reveal certain facts about herself and was speaking plainly, as if she’d been ordered to do so.
“Her younger brother was my father,” Shade continued. “I never took his name and used my mother’s instead. My father and I rarely saw eye-to-eye.”
“Your father was William Griffin, Captain of the Warspite?” Sterling asked. The story of the Warspite’s battle with the Sa’Nerra at Acadia Colony was one of the most famous war stories in the Fleet. He’d always assumed that it merely a coincidence that the ship’s ensign had shared the same surname as her captain. Now he knew better.
“Aye, sir,” replied Shade.
Sterling could see that some of Shade’s barriers had already gone back up, but for now his weapons officer was still managing to be open with him.
“The Warspite took down four enemy warships single-handed and lived to tell the tale,” Sterling said, thinking out loud. “Ramming the final destroyer after the Warspite’s weapons had been destroyed was one of the gutsiest moves I’ve ever heard of.” Then Sterling remembered the key detail about the engagement, which was more poignant now that he knew the identify of Opal Shade. “But Captain Griffin, your father, was killed during that attack?”
“Aye, sir, that’s correct,” Shade answered. “I was the ensign on duty at the time. The Captain and first officer were incapacitated, so I made the call.”
Sterling could hardly believe it. “It was you that rammed that destroyer?”
“Yes, sir,” Shade replied. “Then I left my father on the bridge to die.”
Sterling knew the tale of the Warspite well enough to know that Shade’s brutal summary of her actions wasn’t the whole story.
“If I remember correctly, Lieutenant, you dragged three people off that bridge alive before the hull breach forced the emergency seals to fall,” Sterling countered.
“It doesn’t matter, sir,” Shade replied. “The crew blamed me for the death of their captain.”
It was all starting to make sense to Sterling now, including why Shade had ended up in Grimaldi. Over two hundred crew had perished when the Warspite rammed the enemy destroyer, including its captain. This was despite the fact the desperate act had saved the ship and won the battle. Emotions ran high in the aftermath of the incident, and plenty of blame was thrown around. Several fights had broken out at G-COP and one man had died. Sterling didn’t know for sure, but he was guessing that Shade’s incarceration was directly related to these events. However, he also knew the details of the court marshals that had followed, even if he hadn’t paid attention to the names of those involved.
“The Fleet prosecuting authority found that your actions on the Warspite were warranted, and that you had no case to answer,” Sterling said, speaking more sternly. Shade clearly blamed herself and was perhaps even punishing herself. However, from what Sterling knew of the facts, she had no reason to do so. “You would have been honored for your bravery, had what happened next not occurred.”
“So you know about the fight?” Shade asked, clearly surprised that Sterling had brought it up.
“I didn’t know it was you until just now, but yes,” Sterling replied. “And if it’s any consolation, I would probably have done the same in your boots.” Sterling then slid off the stool and stood tall in front of his weapons officer. “I don’t care about heroes or heroics, Lieutenant,” Sterling went on. “I only care that when a decision has to be made, no matter how horrific the outcome, that an officer makes the hard call, not the easy call. You saved that ship. Your father was just another casualty of war. Screw anyone that thinks any different.”
Shade nodded. “Aye, sir.”
However, as fascinating as it was to hear Shade’s story, it still got them no further forward in their quest to unravel Admiral Griffin’s mystery message. Sterling swirled the stem of the wine glass on the counter, trying to think how any of this related to the encrypted file Griffin had sent them. However, he still drew a blank.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how any of this helps, sir,” Shade then said, sounding much more at ease. “I’ve already tried thinking of words or places associated with Admiral Griffin and myself, but nothing worked.”
“Maybe we’re over-thinking this,” said Sterling. “There has to be something common between you and your aunt. Something special or unusual. Something that only you would know. Something you shared?”
Shade thought for a moment. “We share a rare genetic condition, called adermatoglyphia,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Is that serious?” said Sterling, recoiling from his weapons officer. “It sounds serious.”
“It basically means I have no fingerprints, sir,” Shade replied, holding out her
hands, palms facing up and straightening her fingers. Sterling leant closer and inspected the tips of Shade’s digits. They were completely smooth.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Sterling, rocking back on the stool. “That’s going to make ID checks more challenging for you when you move up the ranks.”
“I still don’t see how it helps, though, Captain,” said Shade, pulling her hands back to her sides.
Sterling continued to twirl the stem of his glass, peering at the ruby red liquid as if it were a crystal ball that could give him the answers he sought. Then the thick, crimson liquid gave him an idea.
“What if your DNA is the key?” said Sterling, holding up the glass and sloshing the liquid inside. “It would be just like Griffin to need you to bleed in order to get the answer.”
Shade’s pencil-line eyebrows raised up. “I suppose it is possible, sir,” she said, sounding unconvinced. “With your permission, I’ll see if Lieutenant Razor can use a sample of my blood for analysis.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” said Sterling, raising his glass. “Keep me appraised.”
“Aye, sir,” Shade replied. She then stood to attention and spun on her heels before heading toward the door.
“And Lieutenant,” Sterling called out, causing Shade to stop and turn around. “For what it’s worth, knowing what I know only makes me more certain that you belong on this ship,” Sterling added.
“Thank you, Captain,” said Shade.
Sterling could see that the weapons officer’s shields had gone back up. However, there was enough of a flicker in her eyes to let Sterling know that his comment had hit home.
“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” Sterling said. He then slid back onto the bar stool, raised the wine glass to his lips and drained the contents in one.
Chapter 33
An ignominious end
The Invictus slowed to a stop at the co-ordinates provided in the file Admiral Griffin had provided, prior to the Invictus departing F-COP for the Void. Sterling’s hunch that the rare genetic defect that Griffin and Opal Shade shared was the key had been correct. As it turned out, Shade had not been required to let her blood in order for Lieutenant Razor to unlock Admiral Griffin’s file. The cause of the condition was a mutation in the SMARCAD1 gene on Chromosome 4Q22. The passphrase had therefore turned out to be “SMARCAD14Q22”. However, while Sterling’s moment of insight had allowed his chief engineer to unlock the file and give them a location in the Void, it did not explain what to do once they arrived. As such, the Invictus was now in the middle of nowhere on the Fleet side of the Void, close to a Fleet colony that had been wiped out over thirty years earlier.