“I’m not a machine. Neither are you. The difference is I’m in control.” Rebecca could hear her spin on her heel and head for the door. “Figure it out, Blizzard,” Eve called over her shoulder. “I need to know I can count on you.”
The Reporter
Since they scanned my clearance card in the Vengeance’s airlock, I’ve seen a lot. Some government spook will probably shut me down if I tell you about all of it, but the one thing I can say with certainty and pride is that I’ve witnessed this ship go through no fewer than twelve battles with Naldím forces, alone more often than not, and every time the outcome is the same: clear, indisputable victory. This ship is where the war ends.
Starla Haley, C01 Empire Nightly
“Did you or any member of the crew ever publicly or privately humiliate Agent Winters?”
“No.”
“Did you or any member of the crew ever emotionally compromise Agent Winters?”
“No.”
“Did you or any member of the crew ever verbally abuse Agent Winters?”
“I… sort of.”
One of Ethan’s interrogators paused momentarily to scribble something in his notebook. “Did you or any member of the crew ever have sexual relations with Agent Winters?”
“What? Hell no.”
“We’re just being thorough, Lieutenant,” the other agent explained calmly.
Ethan shifted. “What is this about, anyway?” he asked. He had meant the question to sound demanding, but under the agents’ stern gazes, it fizzled out.
The men glanced at each other. “Agent Winters is experiencing performance issues,” the taller one explained. “We’re attempting to determine the cause.”
Ethan’s stomach flipped. Regardless of their tumultuous past, he could not help but worry about her wellbeing. “Is she alright?”
“For the moment.”
“What does that mean?”
“If we could move on…” It was not a suggestion. Ethan submitted, and the agents continued in their interminable line of questioning.
An hour later Ethan was released, not surprised to see that the pilots had abandoned him to his fate. He followed the raucous laughter and pungent aroma of alcohol to the rec room, where they had moved their celebration, and opened the door to an explosion of cheers.
Elaine brought him a drink, and in an instant, Rebecca was forgotten. Ethan related his escapade within the Naldím carrier to his comrades, swapped innocuous jibes, and drank his lingering troubles away.
The evening drew to a close a while later, and the pilots began to file out of the rec room in twos and threes, bound for the barracks and a night of rest before the Vengeance encountered its next foe. Before long, only Ethan, Elaine, and a few other members of Raptor Squadron remained. As the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed began to set in, their conversation began to wax nostalgic.
“Do you remember,” one of the Raptors, Corporal Murali, slurred, “when that spud – what was his name? Daniels, wasn’t it? Sure. Daniels. He came onboard right after Four. Do you remember when he chewed out Callaghan for… shit, what was it?”
“I don’t remember,” Ethan said firmly. Only buzzed, he was conscious enough to know he had no desire to reinvigorate memories of his time aboard Dawn.
“Oh, it was good, though. I’ll tell you that.” Murali caught a hiccup in his throat. “It was… blimey, it was something else. If I didn’t know better – shit.” Murali’s gaze locked onto something over Ethan’s shoulder. Everyone turned to see a woman, hair done up in a spectacularly impractical display, wandering in. The precise smile her mouth split into when she spotted Ethan told him all he need to know: this was the reporter he had heard so much about.
Remarkably quickly, given how intoxicated they were, the Raptors abandoned the rec room, mumbling excuses.
“Time for bed.”
“Got to use the dubsy.”
“Need to call me mum.”
Quite suddenly, Ethan was alone with Elaine and the reporter, who bulled her way through the retreating pilots to shake Ethan’s hand.
“Congratulations, congratulations,” she declared, her singsong voice as perfectly manicured as her hair and nails. She did not look at all fit for a combat zone. “On your victory, of course.” She took a seat across from Ethan, completely ignoring Elaine. “Starla Haley. Like Haley’s Star, except the other way around.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s Haley’s Comet.”
“I’ve heard it both ways. Anyway,” Haley said, drawing a tablet from thin air and setting it in front of Ethan. “Anyway, anyway – you are the premiere topic south of the Reach. Hell, north of the Reach for that matter!”
“Thanks?” Ethan guessed.
“No, thank you! Thank you indeed! Now, if I could just get a word or two out of you, that would be fantastic, just fantastic. Do you have a minute?”
Beside Haley, Elaine frantically shook her head at Ethan, but he had a feeling he would have to face Haley sooner or later. He preferred to get it over with. “Sure,” he said. Elaine mimed slapping him upside the head with a devilish grin.
“Alright now, alright…” Haley chirped, picking her tablet up again and preparing to type. “So, Lieutenant Walker: tell me about Dawn Six.”
“I’ve told that story before. A lot.” Already, Ethan felt justified for his prejudice against reporters. He braced himself for her inevitable retort.
“Not to a certified war correspondent,” Haley said smartly, flashing a badge at him. Elaine motioned to see it, and Haley confidently obliged, her attention still fixed on Ethan. He glanced at Elaine, who shrugged indifferently and handed back the credentials. Tucking them away in her blouse, Haley tried again. “There are rumors, Lieutenant – just rumors, mind you – that there was a special operative aboard Voyager Dawn when the Naldím attacked.”
Ethan flushed. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Of course, of course. Just rumors. But that means you managed to retake the ship from nearly two hundred Naldím with just four marines and yourself.” Her tone had dropped from a playful to an accusatory pitch, as if daring him to continue in his lie.
“We had-” Ethan started defensively. He caught himself before word of the ferals spilled out; he had been told enough times already by various government agencies not to mention them, or Frank’s bomb, or Rebecca. Ethan didn’t fully understand why, given that the story was far less spectacular without them, but he was not about to defy the Empire.
“The entire crew helped,” he finished weakly. “We were just the first wave.”
“Uh-huh,” Haley sighed. Her lavish nails clicked on the tablet as she typed up a lengthy verse. “You were, of course, the one to initiate the attack?”
“It was my idea, if that’s what you mean.”
“That is what I mean.” She typed another line, and then looked ponderously up at him. “Do you blame Captain Rhodes for the deaths of so many of your crewmates?”
Ethan felt a twinge in his stomach. “What?”
“The official reports say Rhodes favored a wait-and-see strategy. Many critics are calling it the tactical blunder of the century. Do you believe that, under different orders, more of your comrades may have survived?”
All lingering animosity Ethan had for Rhodes dissipated with Haley’s words. He redirected his hate at her for belittling the captain’s name. “That’s bullshit,” he said, nearly yelling. “Captain Rhodes was a good man and a great leader. He was put in an impossible situation. He had two and a half thousand people looking up to him. He did what he could, and I defy anyone to do better.”
Ethan thought he caught a smirk riding Haley’s lips. She tapped one last command into her tablet. “I think that will be enough for now, Lieutenant. I know when I’ve outstayed my welcome.”
Still with a spring in her step, Haley strode out of the room. Elaine watched her go while Ethan fumed, both waiting for the door to shut. When it did, Elaine reached out and poured Ethan another drink.
&
nbsp; “And then there were two,” she muttered.
Ethan took the drink readily. “Wow,” he breathed, slowly centering himself, “she really is a…”
“Bitch?” Elaine suggested.
“I was going to say piece of work.”
“She’s a bitch.”
Ethan raised his glass in agreement. “Just don’t let her hear you saying that.”
“Hey, I can keep a secret,” Elaine said indignantly. “Like how I-” She cut herself off.
“What?” The clandestine way in which Elaine was now avoiding eye contact only piqued Ethan’s interest.
She swirled her drink around in the glass, as if it would offer up some escape from Ethan’s curiosity. With a swig, Elaine regained her confidence. “You know, I used to have a crush on you.”
Ethan felt the heat rising to his face. “Really? That’s… cool.” He gave himself a mental slap.
Elaine exhaled sharply – the faintest whisper of a laugh. “Yeah. Cool. Anyway.” She had nothing more to add.
Before Ethan could work up the courage to pursue the subject, the jarring squawk of the PA ripped through the room. Briggs’ jaunty accent bounced through it. “Walker to the bridge, pronto. Squadrons on standby. Pop some anti-inebriates if you have to, but be ready to fly.”
They exchanged glances. “Duty calls,” Elaine said. Ethan nodded and they stood in unison. As they parted ways in the hall beyond the rec room, he smiled to himself. The Vengeance was starting to grow on him.
The Station
Captain Clay is reporting minor victories over the Naldím on Carmine V, thanks mostly to Blizzard and Xeno for scaring off whatever was controlling the nexacors. The last report I received from them said they were still pursuing the craft, though they have since gone dark. I have faith that they’ll return in due time. Hawking knows we need them here.
Excerpt, Admiral Indira Shane, Field Report
Rebecca might have thought she was looking at a black hole for the utter lack of stars on the view screen, had she not heard the stories this place brought to life. It was known quite simply as the Expanse – a vast swath of space completely devoid of celestial bodies, and an utter enigma to all those who studied it. No one had ever ventured very far inside, given a lack of any points within it on which a ship could anchor its compression drive.
But it was where the Wraiths’ mystery ship had gone, so it was where the Phantom was going as well.
Rebecca clapped her hand on Parker’s shoulder as she appeared behind him. “Sitrep.”
Parker glanced sideways at her armored glove and nodded at the black abyss in front of them. “Just dropped out of compression. We’re going to have to hoof it from here.”
“As long as we keep pace.” Rebecca stared a moment longer at the screen, then pivoted on her heel and started towards the door.
“Wait, sir!” Parker called, sounding surprised by the volume of his own voice. “Naldím sigs on radar.”
Rebecca was back at his side in two steps. “Go dark. Now.”
Parker flipped an array of switches overhead, plunging the cabin into darkness and killing the soft hum of the reactor behind them. The PA sounded, Parker manning the microphone. “Attention crew, we are going dark. Prepare for shutoff.”
Kahlo appeared behind them, followed closely by Eve. “I’ve got an injector on the fritz,” he objected. “I need to be online.”
“We’ve got Naldím,” Parker explained. He tapped a command into his control panel and Kahlo fizzled out of existence. He looked over at Rebecca and Eve. “One of you is going to have to fly. Even with just me online, the imaging system’s putting out way too much power.”
“Then disconnect,” Rebecca said, guiding him out of the seat and taking it for herself. “We’ll take care of it.”
“You’ve only got mavs and gyros, so don’t try anything fancy.” With that warning, Parker entered another command and disappeared.
It took the Naldím another hour to appear, slicing silently through the darkness like a pack of wolves. There were five ships, all barely larger than the Phantom, and Rebecca had no doubt they were more than capable of destroying the ship if they saw it. She kept the craft as still as she could, drifting only slightly to avoid a collision with the hunting party.
“They’re on the exact same heading,” Eve observed, whispering regardless of the void that separated her voice from the ears of the Naldím.
“Question is, were they following us or the other ship?” The radar beeped, cutting off Eve’s answer. Rebecca leaned in to inspect it. “They’re changing course. And accelerating.”
“So, they’re not following us.”
“Let’s hope not.” Twisting the yoke, Rebecca swung the Phantom around to match the Naldím’s vector, the maneuvering thrusters barely keeping up with her demands. Without the grav array online, the ship moved like it was flying through molasses.
The pursuit was even less enthralling than it had been before the Naldím arrived and was slower than ever. Regardless of the dozens of reconnaissance missions and hundreds of hours of training that proved she was capable of sitting still for hours on end, Rebecca started to fidget. She told herself it was because this was more important – more critical to the Empire’s well-being – than anything she had done before. She had a right to fidget.
A sigh, barely audible, escaped Eve’s lips. Rebecca didn’t bother to look at her. “What?” she asked irritably.
Eve took a few seconds to respond. “You,” she said finally. “Pull yourself together. You’re making me nervous.”
“Glad you care,” Rebecca muttered. She checked the radar again. The Naldím were slowing. “Sigs,” she ordered.
Eve slid into the navigator’s chair, bringing up a display. “Five Naldím sigs,” she reported. “UFO is still on our vector.”
“What are the Naldím stopping for?”
“I don’t… wait. New sig. Naldím are closing on it.”
“Type?” Eve tapped on the flashing dot that was the computer’s rendition of the object. After a second, she tapped it again. And again. “Xeno.”
“Wait. Confirming type.”
“What’s wrong?” Rebecca spun her chair around, moving behind Eve in the blink of an eye. It was instantly clear what had Eve so unsure of her readings. The signal was an Imperial distress beacon. She leaned in. “Can we get a visual?”
Wordlessly, Eve brought an image to the screen. Whatever the featureless sphere that was presented to them was, it certainly was not human. Rebecca and Eve stared, entirely transfixed by its flawless, unmoving structure. They barely noticed when the Naldím flotilla slid into frame.
The sphere reacted gracefully to the ships’ presence, a small opening materializing on its surface, but the Naldím did not accept the apparent invitation. Their craft turned away as one and resumed the chase.
Rebecca looked at Eve. “We’re going in.”
“What about the UFO?” Eve protested.
“It won’t take long. We can pick up the Naldím’s trail.” Eve’s brow furrowed, clearly searching for an argument. “That’s an order, Agent,” Rebecca added. Her seniority over Eve did not technically hold much sway, but she remembered in the moment that Eve still required her approval to graduate from the program. Evidently the young Wraith realized that as well, as she quietly complied.
As before, the sphere generated a portal facing the Phantom as the latter approached. Unlike its encounter with the Naldím, however, the sphere also produced a set of docking clamps that settled neatly around the ship’s hull, sealing the gap between them and allowing the airlock to pressurize.
With a sigh that surrendered the last vestiges of atmosphere from within the Phantom’s airlock, the hatch opened. Rebecca and Eve stepped through, armed to the teeth and training their weapons on the darkness that extended in front of them. Possibly to allay their fears, the corridor was suddenly flooded with light emanating from domed bulbs that materialized as quickly as the opening had. The Wrait
hs moved carefully forward.
Rebecca kept an eye on the readings that flashed across her HUD. They were remarkably normal. “Twenty-two centigrade, Mars-like atmo,” she read off, each statistic cycling through her field of view, “Point nine-eight G’s.”
“How does it know?” Eve wondered aloud.
“It probably checked our computer,” Rebecca answered. She tried to suppress her awe at the sophistication of the sphere, with little success. “Might be where it got our distress channel as well.”
“The question is why.” Her comment sent a chill down Rebecca’s spine. The sphere had so willingly conformed to their ideals that she had assumed it to be benevolent, but that was by no means guaranteed. She steadied her rifle.
Quite abruptly, the corridor ended, the back wall splitting open fluidly like everything else about the sphere and revealing a massive semicircular room beyond. It was completely bare, save a small console that rose out of the floor on the far end. Cautiously, the Wraiths approached.
The console morphed further as they grew closer, producing a screen and keyboard from its depths. Remarkably – though no longer surprising – the keys were marked with the Common alphabet.
Centering herself with a deep breath, Rebecca leaned over the keys and typed in a message: Hello.
Hello. The machine’s response was instantaneous.
Rebecca entered another string. What is this place?
Xenological Research Facility 52081.
Who created it?
Time.
Rebecca paused. The answer meant nothing to her. Eve made a small noise. Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, prompting an explanation. “Mistranslation?” Eve guessed. Rebecca shrugged and returned to the keyboard.
What do you know about the Naldím?
This time, the computer hesitated, but only just. It spat out its response. Species 45. Population: 76,307,232,091. Native homeworld designation: Naktra. Further information classified.
Rebecca straightened, turning back to Eve. “Get on the comm and let SWORD know about this. We need a research team here asap." Eve nodded silently and retreated toward the ship. As she disappeared down the hall, Rebecca entered one final message – a question that sprang to mind out of the deep recesses of her memory, and one she had a feeling this computer would know the answer to: What do you know about the destruction of the ICS Hope?
Vengeful Dawn Page 9