Vengeful Dawn

by Richard Patton

“Were you aware Lieutenant Ethan Walker was onboard? Along with Captain Andre Briggs and Sergeant Ford Shields?”

  For a moment, Rebecca considered lying. Given the amount of implants infesting her brain, though, she decided they would most likely know if she did. “Yes.”

  The woman’s tablet beeped at her. She cleared a message off the screen. “I believe that’s all for now,” she said, sparing brief sideways looks at her colleagues. “We’ll be in touch.”

  As they filed out, Eve appeared through the threshold. She waited patiently for the board to exit, arms folded tightly across her chest, then entered. A look shot at Sloane told him she wanted to be alone with Rebecca.

  “What?” Rebecca said, trying to sound civil. Eve’s face was the last she wanted to see at the moment.

  Eve avoided eye contact. “I wanted to make sure we were okay.”

  Rebecca let out a small, incredulous cough. “You shot me in the head.”

  “And you shot me. Are we okay?” Eve repeated.

  Rebecca drew out her answer, trying to catch Eve’s evasive eyes. “You were following orders. I can’t blame you for that.”

  “They’re giving me the Phantom.”

  This time Rebecca was the one to break her gaze. “Good. You deserve it.”

  “I want you to come with me. When you’re done with… this.” Eve waved a hand at the sterile room. “You’re not a bad Wraith. The best, actually. You’re just going through something.”

  “I’m not just broken, Eve,” Rebecca shot back. Her eyes stung. “I’ve changed and I don’t know why. They can’t fix me.”

  “They can and they will,” Eve responded, her voice gaining confidence. “And when they do, I’ll be waiting for you.” She turned back toward the door. “We’re letting Lieutenant Walker on the base. I’ll send him over.”

  *

  The rooms Voinovich and Murali had selected for the crew were by no means luxury suites. For that matter, they were barely large enough to house the number of men and women stuffed into each one. Nevertheless, each combination living and bedroom was a palatial upgrade from the dark, cramped barracks of the Vengeance.

  Ethan and the other pilots were placed in two adjoining rooms which provided a spectacular view of Akinawa’s space elevator, which led to what the brochure claimed to be the first zero-G casino in the Empire.

  Ethan had no interest in visiting it. For the first time in years, he felt more comfortable on the ground – the Vengeance had spent almost four months in constant battle, which was a little too much time in space for his liking. He had everything he needed here in his room: fresh air, a minibar subsidized by the UOE, a television with high-speed ultranet, and the enchanting company of Elaine.

  As the sun set on their second day in the resort, Ethan and Elaine cuddled on the fold-out couch in Room twelve-oh-one-B and flipped through the live streams.

  “It’s amazing that there are five hundred streams and nothing good is on,” Ethan muttered, skipping over yet another in a long line of conspiracy shows claiming Earth was home to a government installation hiding alien secrets.

  “Ooh, wait, go back,” Elaine said, snatching the remote from him. “I love these shows. And there’s six hundred and twelve streams.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It says right there. Stream one eighty-two of six hundred twelve.”

  “We’re not even in the two hundreds yet? It feels like we’ve been browsing for hours.”

  “Only because you stopped to watch that docu-drama scutch,” Elaine retorted, returning to the conspiracy stream.

  “This is scutch,” Ethan corrected.

  “Funny scutch,” Elaine countered.

  “How about instead, we just turn off the TV,” Ethan said, stealing the remote back, “and talk instead?”

  Elaine turned to face him. “About what?”

  Ethan screwed up his courage. “Us.”

  Elaine’s lips twisted into a smirk. “How about instead of talking, we do something about us?”

  Ethan found himself leaning closer to her, and noticing she was doing the same. “Like what?” he asked softly.

  “Something… inadvisable.” They met in a passionate kiss, desperately grasping at each other. Ethan fell back against the cushions, holding her tightly.

  A knock at the door blasted through their moment like a cannon shot. They were both content to ignore it until it was followed by a voice announcing itself as SWORD. Reluctantly, Ethan cracked open the door.

  A Wraith – Xeno, by the emblem on her shoulder – stared back at him. “Agent Winters would like to see you,” she said, her voice cold and apathetic.

  Ethan heard Elaine shift uncomfortably on the couch behind him. “Now?”

  “That would be best.”

  Sighing heavily, Ethan looked back at Elaine. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. She didn’t answer. Reluctantly, he followed Xeno down the hall.

  The Analysis

  To: Captains, IMS Harpy, IMS Singapore, IMS Ganges, and 328 others

  From: Grand Admiral Singh, IMS Imperium

  The Third Fleet is nearing completion, which marks the beginning of Operation Eclipse. If you are receiving this message, you are hereby ordered to set course for Checkpoint Omega effective immediately. Coordinates to follow.

  Godspeed.

  The SWORD outpost embedded in Pearl Bay was reminiscent of the Phantom, Ethan thought, brief though his time aboard the ship was. Despite its pristine surfaces and efficient designs, it felt terribly oppressive. It was a small wonder Rebecca had experienced problems after living for so long in such an environment.

  Ethan hurried his pace.

  Eve led him into a medical wing that looked more like a robotics lab, and into a small operating room that had been partially transformed into secure living quarters for Rebecca. She was gazing blankly into nothingness when the door hissed open. Leaping to her feet with feline grace, she strode across the room to meet her visitors.

  “I’ll be outside,” Eve advised quietly, closing the door behind her.

  A long, awkward moment passed before Rebecca decided to speak. She started slowly, measuring each word. “You were the first person to ever treat me like a person, not a Wraith. You actually showed compassion.”

  “You are a person,” Ethan pointed out.

  “You know what I mean.” Rebecca began to pace. “You made me feel…human. Wraiths are taught we’re something special. Something different. But it costs us our freedom, our emotions. So when I started to feel human…”

  “You started to act like it,” Ethan finished. “What did you do?”

  Rebecca stopped mid-step and looked toward Ethan – not at him, but through him. “I wasn’t supposed to rescue Vengeance.”

  “Why did you?” he asked. Rebecca didn’t answer, but Ethan didn’t need her to – her silence told him everything he needed to know. He pushed forward. “So, what do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing,” Rebecca said, resuming her patrol around the operating table. “I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t like it at first – feeling all this – but I like being free. Even if I screw up, it feels better. It feels right. And it’s because of you.”

  “Don’t discount yourself,” Ethan said. He had a distinct feeling that his involvement in her going AWOL would come back to bite him. “You were the one to actually embrace it. You have all those implants in your head, all that training… that must’ve taken a lot to get over.”

  “It… yeah,” Rebecca finished weakly.

  The door rushed open, and a small man in a form-fitting white jumpsuit trotted through. “Agent Winters,” he said, crashing obliviously through the moment, “I’m Doctor Chang. Implant specialist.” He gave Ethan half a glance. “Lieutenant. Feel free to stay, though I don’t really know why you’d want to. Unless you want to see a visual cortex resequencer. They’re pretty cool. Oh! And the neural hyperlink web. Very interesting stuff.”

  Ethan opened his mouth to
object. Rebecca silently shook her head at him. Grudgingly, he obeyed. It was probably not best to oppose a SWORD operative, even if said operative was the most sprightly he’d ever seen.

  “I’ll wait outside,” he said, not terribly keen on seeing whatever mutilations inhabited Rebecca’s skull.

  “Suit yourself,” the doctor muttered. He was already lowering a scanner around his patient’s head.

  Ethan sat down on a bench across the hall and opened his comm. There was a message from Haley. Surprised, he opened it. He had almost entirely forgotten about the reporter, and was, in spite of himself, amazed that she was still alive.

  Camera’s still rolling, it read, each phrase punctuated with little doodles. Let’s get that fighter in the air! Ethan rolled his eyes and closed the messenger app.

  He passed the next hour with an exhilarating game of poker against Ford and some other marines over his comm, which ended in the disastrous loss of his virtual cash and, according to the marines, his Officer’s Mess rights for the rest of the month. Not intending at all to pay the sum, Ethan shut off his comm and stretched. Only then did he become aware of Eve standing a little way down the hall.

  “Playing a game?” she asked.

  “I was,” Ethan answered. “I lost.”

  Eve moved slightly closer. “Why are you wearing all those dog tags?” she said, abandoning all pretense.

  Ethan rubbed the raw patch of skin the numerous chains had dug into his neck. “So I don’t forget.” He tapped his comm. “Letters of condolence. I still have to write them.”

  “Get it over with,” Eve suggested bluntly. “Can’t be good for your skin.”

  Ethan chuckled dryly. “I guess not. But I can’t figure out what to write.”

  “’He or she was a good soldier. They fought well for the Empire.’ Done.”

  “It can’t just be that. There needs to be… more.”

  “Why?”

  “Because their families need to know how they died. When. Where. Why.”

  “Why does that matter?” Eve asked, mildly exasperated. “Your time is better spent making sure their deaths weren’t a waste than writing letters that aren’t going to fix anything.”

  Ethan looked sideways at her. “You’re the real poster child for Wraiths, huh?”

  Eve took a moment to comprehend his meaning. “I’m just being realistic.” When Ethan didn’t respond, she settled into silence.

  A few minutes later Rebecca emerged from the operating room. Her cold pallor spiked Ethan’s heart rate. He jumped up to meet her. “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Rebecca took a deep breath, composing herself. She spared a brief look at Eve. “I’m fine,” she said shakily. “Doctor Chang said my limbic monitor is shattered. Most likely happened when I was blown off Dawn’s bridge.”

  “That explains a lot,” Eve said under her breath. Ethan only just caught it. He had no doubt Rebecca had as well. Eve smiled soullessly at Rebecca. “Easy fix.”

  “Yeah,” Rebecca answered slowly. “Operation next week.”

  Eve held a finger to her ear, listening to something only she could hear. “Duty calls,” she said vaguely, nodding to Ethan and Rebecca in turn. “Lieutenant. Agent.”

  As she left, Ethan turned back to Rebecca. “I don’t get it. What’s a limbic monitor?”

  “Dopamine and epinephrine regulator.” Ethan’s blank look prompted her to elaborate further. “It limits emotional responses.”

  “So…” Ethan wasn’t sure what point Rebecca was trying to make.

  “So, I thought it was me,” Rebecca said, her voice cracking. “I thought I was becoming something special. More like you.” She slumped against the wall. Her eyes were glassy. “It was just a hardware malfunction.”

  Ethan moved closer, and Rebecca looked away. He could think of nothing to say. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “I hate this,” she said quietly. “I was wrong, SWORD was right. Emotions are a weakness.” Rebecca took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes. “I can’t… I just…”

  “You don’t need to tell me life can suck,” Ethan said, squeezing her shoulder. “But the good times are worth it. I promise.”

  Rebecca laughed morosely. “I’m a Wraith, Ethan. We don’t get good times.” Again, Ethan was out of his depth. He offered a sympathetic smile.

  Once again with impeccable timing, Chang appeared from within the operating room. He was carrying a jet-black tablet with a lengthy form splashed across its screen. “Agent Winters, your consent form.”

  “Consent for what?” Ethan wondered aloud.

  “Monitor replacement,” Chang answered. “Technically she doesn’t have much of a choice: she’s grounded if she doesn’t take it. But SWORD still values consent. We aren’t monsters.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Ethan said under his breath, watching Rebecca stare blankly at the tablet. She fiddled with the stylus, its tip hovering millimeters from the screen.

  She slowly met Ethan’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It wasn’t real.” A few quick strikes of the stylus and the form was signed. She handed it back to Chang.

  “Excellent,” Chang chirped. “Unfortunately, we can’t schedule your operation until next week – we’re backed up with the wounded from Vengeance. Might as well enjoy the resort until then, hm?”

  Rebecca said nothing. She turned and stalked down the hall, leaving Chang bewildered and Ethan aching.

  *

  The image of tears welling in Rebecca’s eyes burned like a fresh tattoo on Ethan’s mind, even that evening, when he finally returned to the hotel after a walk on the beach to clear his head. He passed by the pilots in the lounge without greeting, making a beeline for his room.

  Elaine was waiting within, her eyes fixed on the television. She didn’t offer Ethan any acknowledgement when he entered, or when he emerged from the bedroom after changing into casuals. Finally, after he threw himself down on the couch beside her, she spoke. “How was your date?”

  Ethan mustered an exhausted sigh. “She’s… not doing well.”

  “Mm,” Elaine answered dryly. She jammed a spoon into a half-melted tub of ice cream.

  “Wait, you’re not jealous, are you?” Ethan asked incredulously.

  Elaine kept her eyes on the TV. “Should I be?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m not.”

  Ethan wasn’t entirely convinced. “I think she hates me now, if it helps.”

  That seemed to more thoroughly satisfy Elaine. She rolled toward him. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I like you.” They both leaned in to kiss.

  After only a brief embrace, Ethan pulled back. “You taste like peanut butter.”

  Elaine laughed and held up the tub of ice cream. “Sorry. It was the only one they had.” She moved forward again. “Better clean it off.” Ethan obliged.

  Moments later, in a turn that convinced Ethan the universe was conspiring against him, there was a knock at the door. “For the love of Hawking,” he groaned, pulling himself upright.

  “Can’t two officers have an illicit affair in peace on this planet?” Elaine agreed, storming over to the door.

  Ford was waiting beyond. He tipped his hat at her. “Sergeant. Captain wants you on Vengeance ASAP.”

  “Why?” Elaine demanded.

  Ford bit hard on his cigar. “We’re moving out. It’s the big one. Final assault.”

  The Remainder

  To: Captains, IMS Harpy, IMS Singapore, IMS Ganges, and 301 others

  From: Grand Admiral Singh, IMS Imperium

  Operation Eclipse is officially underway. Scout ships from the First Fleet are probing enemy lines, and the rest of the fleet is assembled at the rendezvous. Second Fleet is inbound.

  Initial resistance is proving minimal. We expect a flanking maneuver from outlying Naldím ships once the assault is underway. Therefore, the Second Fleet will only engage once their counterattack has begun.

  Battlegroup orders to follow.

  R
ebecca watched the Vengeance blast into space from the shining shores of Akinawa North, wondering if Ethan was still thinking of her. It was more likely his only thoughts were with Sergeant Barrett. The specifics of their relationship were still unknown to her – Rebecca only knew what Eve had told her – but the thought of Ethan prioritizing romance over her made her feel numb. It was selfish, she knew, but she let herself feel it. As long as her implant was broken, she let emotions run their course.

  Her auditory implants, however, were working fine. The soft crunch of sand growing louder announced someone’s presence. Tall, a little on the heavy side. A man.

  “Mind if I sit here?”

  Rebecca tilted her head noncommittally. The man sat down. Together, they listened and watched the waves crashing against the beach until finally, he decided to speak. “I went to school at the Redding Institute of Science for twelve years. Doctorates in psychology and psychiatry. Graduated cum laude. Not a single moment of that prepared me for helping Wraiths.”

  The biography sounded familiar. “Doctor Hannan?” Rebecca guessed.

  “You got me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “To help you. If you’ll let me.”

  Rebecca kept her eyes fixed on the sea. “I don’t need help. I’m getting the surgery next week.”

  “You won’t forget everything that’s happened to you once you get your new monitor,” Hannan argued. “You’ll still have to deal with it.” He paused. “I spoke with Captain Prasad. He told me what he told you. About the different types of Wraiths. You remember that?”

  Rebecca did not bother to answer. She gave him a look.

  “Of course you remember,” Hannan said, chuckling to himself. “Look who I’m talking to. All I’m saying is that you have to be the first type of Wraith. Accept your emotions instead of trying to control them. Even with your monitor, you’ll remember what it feels like.”

  Rebecca’s thoughts leapt back to the Phantom. Not to Prasad, though. “I know someone like that,” she said, the image of Cam’s lifeless eyes floating to the forefront of her memory. “And he hates it. He says it’s distracting.”