by M. D. Cooper
Lana shook her head. “Ran from something, or maybe still running. She seemed to have a healthy dose of regret. It’s easy for me to recognize the signs.”
Quxa gave Lana a warm smile. “Don’t live with regret. You’re a fine young woman and you’re getting your space legs. Soon, we won’t be able to tell you apart from anyone else on the Polis Fury.”
Lana liked being included, but she didn’t really like the idea of not being able to be distinguished from the group. Stars, would anything ever make her really happy? “Run the search, and if you hit on anything big, let me know. Is there a way to trace where she’s from, based on her DNA?”
Grace shook her head. “Only if her DNA has specific genetic markers that you can’t find in other systems. A hard thing to do, considering how spread out we humans are. If we did a bone-marrow pull, we could look at isotopes and narrow it down.”
“Well, keep me up-to-date. Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.” Lana hopped down off the table and gave Grace a smile on her way out the door, momentarily forgetting that the woman couldn’t see it. “Thanks,” she added, hoping there would soon be something noteworthy to report to Grayson.
She didn’t want to disappoint the colonel. His opinion and recommendations went far with the SSF, and he seemed to have hit it off with Field Marshal Richards and President Tomlinson as well. Lana had only met Tanis Richards briefly, and spoken with the Transcend’s president twice via holo.
Though Sera Tomlinson had appeared tough as nails, it was hard for Lana not to stare when she realized that the woman might have been naked. It was hard to be sure with the level of tech the Transcend seemed to have, but either way, someone with the confidence to eschew clothing was something that impressed—and intimidated—Lana more than a little.
A recommendation to someone like Sera from Grayson could open a lot of doors for Lana. Then maybe she could prove to her dad she wasn’t worthless after all.
She had barely spoken to him after the I2’s doctors had ‘corrected’ the advanced nanotech in her body. He’d been busy dealing with the ramifications and hadn’t had a lot of time for her. Either way, wherever he was, she hoped he didn’t think too negatively about her.
Maybe she’d never shake those feelings of insecurity…and maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe all that mattered was that Lana did what she could, get involved, and help people.
And that’s exactly what she was going to do.
LOST IN THE FOG
STELLAR DATE: 12.17.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Approaching Starlight Station, Dante
REGION: Dante Velorum System, Fringe
His father was dead, his brother’s and mother’s whereabouts were unknown, and his sister was coming for him. It was just a matter of time.
The family legacy stood on a knife’s edge and its survival would fall to Paul. He was playing a waiting game, preparing as best he could for when the remains of the Revolution Fleet fell.
He had work to do; things to prepare for.
In the main cabin of the Tritan, his personal shuttle, Paul leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. Black, almost like tar; he liked his brew to be ridiculously strong. The oldest of the Rhoads children, blessed both with dark hair and dark eyes, he’d also inherited his father’s strong chin—which he now stroked pensively. He remained quiet as his wife piloted the shuttle into a docking bay in Starlight Station, which sat atop the Dante’s space elevator.
“OK, here we are. Local time is just after eleven hundred.” Janice turned in her seat to look at him, her position revealing the Revolution symbol right above her left breast. Long brown ringlets spiraled down her back and framed her smiling face, her fine features aglow with the light streaming through the forward screen.
Though Paul had always been a good son, dedicated to his father, his heart belonged to Janice. The clean lines of her face were beautiful, romantic. Paul tried to memorize the curve of her jaw and even the small crinkles around her eyes.
“Just in time for lunch, then.” Paul traced a finger along her cheek and would’ve kissed her if there were time.
Janice laughed. “Oh, darling, do you ever think of anything but a meal?”
“A family trait. I’m glad the outer shipyards are doing well. I hope things here at Starlight are on track, too. We need to bolster the fleet almost as badly as we need warm bodies.”
Janice offered him her hand and Paul took it. Hand in hand, the couple strode off the Tritan and walked through the passageways—a pair of guards named Pasa and Fritts, who had been waiting in the bay, following after—to an elevator car that took the group down the strand for the thirty-minute journey to Dante’s surface.
A platoon of soldiers waited at the debarkation terminal on the planet, and at their head was one of Paul’s most trusted soldiers.
“Area is secure and ready for you, sir,” Lieutenant Drake said.
Paul nodded his thanks. It would be an important visit. A representative from Orion would be present, ready to judge his progress—and likely berate him for his father’s failure. Many other local officials would also be present, representatives from systems that had supported the Revolution Fleet and who needed to be convinced that it was in their best interest to continue with that support.
Just thinking of it sent a wave of anxiety through him.
“Lead us on, then,” Janice gently encouraged the lieutenant. “We don’t want to be late.”
Outside the terminal, the world was nothing like one would expect to find after the ride down to the surface in something as ancient and magnificent as a space elevator.
Despite its backwater location within the Fringe, it was rumored that Dante had been terraformed by the FGT, and that it was they who had made the elevator that still serviced the planet—though the people who now lived on the world possessed nothing approaching that level of technology.
Like most of the worlds in the Fringe, they’d been thrown back to near pre-spaceflight technology during the dark ages that followed the FTL wars. Only their secluded location beyond the Velorum Rift had kept them relatively safe.
Over the prior few centuries—aided by their space elevator, which they referred to as ‘The Star Strand’—the people of Dante Velorum had clawed their way back to being a spacefaring civilization—though they’d done it while maintaining a smaller population…under a hundred million, system-wide.
In all honesty, it was a true utopia—that was, before his father had arrived. Now the system was focused on building ships for the Revolution Fleet, and on not incurring the Rhoads’ wrath.
The capital city of New Roma encircled the base of the space elevator, its elegant buildings displaying a clean and refined architecture.
Outside the terminal, a delegation from the local government, headed by Chancellor Bishop—a man entirely loyal to the cause—waited for them.
Paul watched his wife smile and saw the slow spread of satisfaction on her face. “See how loyal they are, how ready to serve, even with your father gone.”
“Through no small amount of your own efforts,” Paul said as he took her hand and walked toward the waiting delegation.
“Just doing my job as a good wife. A good Rhoads.” Janice patted his hand and squeezed it with affection. “Soon, we’ll be called to serve the people of Orion. Our hearts will need to be just as dedicated to them as they were to Peter.”
Paul was unable to respond to his wife’s encouragement, as they, at last, reached the waiting contingent.
“Admiral Rhoads, we’ve been anticipating your arrival.” Chancellor Bishop, wearing his customary grey suit, said as he stepped forward.
He had wrinkles around his eyes and had a thin and receding hairline. In other words, the man possessed no AI or nano, and didn’t believe in rejuvenation techniques. He was the future they all were destined to embrace.
And Paul was to keep them all on that path.
Paul shook the chancellor’s offered hand. “It’ll be a time
of celebration, especially with the news I bring. Let’s talk over lunch. I want to see all of the progress you’ve made since my last visit. We’re going to have a very busy day ahead of us.”
Bishop nodded. “We have prepared a meal fit for a king to celebrate. With you and your lovely wife.”
Janice grinned as she slipped her arm through Paul’s. “I knew I liked you when last we met, Bishop. I can’t wait to see your wife and children again. How are Sophia and little Carter?”
Paul gave his wife a look of appraisal and support. Though he rarely faltered when it came to remembering details and social graces, she was always ready to step in. With the two of them together, nothing could keep them from spreading their message, from winning. It didn’t matter who tried to stop them.
The thought immediately shifted his mind to her.
She was coming. He’d known, from the moment he heard about Father’s death and the destruction of his division of the Revolution Fleet, that there would be a confrontation between brother and sister. A confrontation he was desperate to avoid.
Now all he could do was prepare and hope the time he had would be enough.
SANDWICH KING
STELLAR DATE: 12.17.8948 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Barbaric Queen
REGION: Approaching Dante Velorum, Interstellar Dark Layer
Bubbs had seen a lot of things over the years that had truly horrified her, but nothing came as close to true terror as the lost, yet happy puppy dog expression Rogers constantly had on his face.
She’d arrived at the galley moments before, planning to grab a cup of coffee, only to discover the Barbaric Queen’s pilot was in there making a sandwich.
With little choice but to join him in the room, she cleared her throat and hurried over to the coffee pot. The light brown color of the brew she poured into her mug was disheartening.
Great. With the captain gone, I’m stuck drinking this guy’s pathetic excuse for coffee.
“Why do you wear that face?” she growled at Rogers as she turned, cup in hand.
“It’s the only face I have.”
Bubbs glared at him. “Har.”
Rogers pushed down on his bread, the lettuce inside making a soft crunch. Not as nice as the sound of bones crunching, but it was a close runner-up…right behind chips crunching in a burger.
He gave a small shrug as he stuffed the sandwich in his mouth.
“It’s for the good of the mission. Kylie needs backup and support. I couldn’t go, as my good arm is a giveaway that I’m not Elizabeth. Trust me. I would much rather have gone with the captain than stay here with you. No offense.”
“Uh, no offense?” Rogers raised his eyebrows.
“Soon as this is over, you’ll be reunited with your true love.”
“You’re right. Everything you just said, I already know. I must seem pretty silly to you, huh?”
Bubbs sipped her coffee-flavored water and winced. “More like stupid.”
Rogers’ eyes widened. “Well, thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome,” Bubbs said without missing a beat. “I’m just out of sorts. Mr. Fizzle Pop’s tracker’s not responding, and I can’t find him anywhere.”
Rogers shook his head. “Me either. Not since he came into my room and stole my hidden stash of beef jerky while I was fixing the Solidarity. I’m not sure how he even found it.”
“He has a great sniffer. It was upgraded.”
“Of course it was. What haven’t you upgraded on that cat?”
Bubbs sighed and put her mug down. “This isn’t good. I can’t find him anywhere. I even put out tuna, and he didn’t come.”
“Do you think he’s…you know…hurt?”
Bubbs nearly laughed at such a ridiculous statement. “No, if he was aboard and injured, we’d hear him. I’m worried that he’s no longer on the ship. He must have snuck over to the Solidarity before we detached.”
“You’re really going to hurt the captain for this, aren’t you?”
“I am not.” Bubbs arched an eyebrow. “I have no need. Once Mr. Fizzle Pop realizes we’ve been separated, he will be a terror to live with. That alone should be enough punishment…and Kylie will learn her lesson.”
“Lesson?”
Bubbs nodded. “Always check for strange cats before disengaging the umbilical, of course.”
Rogers smirked. “Of course.”
She picked her mug back up and strolled toward the exit.
“Where are you headed?” Rogers asked as he rushed after her, his half-eaten sandwich still in his hand.
“To question and torture our three guests. Want to come? It’ll put hair on your chest, unlike this coffee.” Bubbs slapped him on the back.
Rogers winced. “Um, no. I’m going to head to the bridge, review our progress and the maps of Dante Velorum. I’m real nervous about this.”
“We have two days of FTL to go, Rogers. We’ll make it there in one piece; I have faith in you, even if you don’t.”
“It’s not that. It’s what happens when we get there. If Paul’s anything like Peter, Kylie won’t have a choice. If she stalls or delays, I’m worried what that all means.”
“It means sometimes we have to do things for the captain when she can’t do it for herself. Which is why I sent the message to Sera Tomlinson and the Hand.”
Rogers’ eyes widened. “You? All this time, I was worried about Ricket, and you sent the message!”
“Yes!” Bubbs answered emphatically. “By the time they get the message, filter it through the right channels and ready a fleet, it could be weeks. It’s not like Paul’s in the midst of attacking a world. It’ll be low priority. If we delayed, and Kylie needs aid, they’d never arrive in time to help her.”
Rogers shook his head. “If they arrive before she does, if her brother is hurt in whatever happens next, or killed…Bubbs, she’ll throw you off the ship.”
A shrug rolled off the woman’s shoulders. “It’s the risk I took to help a friend when she doesn’t realize she needs help. Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?” Bubbs asked sincerely.
“Yeah…yeah, it is. I’m glad you’re here, Bubbs. I should’ve been the one to make a call like that. Sometimes I’m so damn loyal to Kylie, I don’t see when the things she asks me to do go against her own best interests.”
“If something happens to her brother, I will beg forgiveness, but at least Kylie will be alive for that to happen. If she wishes me to leave the BQ, I hope what I do here is time well-spent.” She sipped her coffee and nearly gagged. “Now, want to help me rough up a surly boy and a couple of women before we call it a day?”
* * * * *
Rogers had declined a visit with the prisoners and instead went to the bridge, contemplating his brief, and somewhat disturbing, conversation with Bubbs.
She’d made several good points about Kylie and calling the reinforcements in to help. Mostly, Rogers was disturbed by his own reluctance to make the right call if it meant second-guessing the captain. Was he getting soft?
In the back of his mind, he suspected that he’d always been soft when it came to Kylie. Back when there were only two other crewmembers on the Dauntless, he’d wanted to side with the captain. No one ever knew when Winter was going to go off and do something that went against orders—someone had to toe the line.
Man, we’ve come a long way since then.
Rogers just hoped Kylie would be all right—and Ricket, too. He wasn’t ready to lose the two most important women in his life, especially not on the same day.
He ran a few system checks and diagnostics from his pilot’s seat. When he was done, he rose from his chair, and suddenly his vision spun, like the worst case of vertigo imaginable—except he didn’t ever experience vertigo.
Rogers groaned and grabbed the back of his seat, b
egging it to stop wobbling around, only to have his mind flooded with a vision.
What the hell?
In his mind, he saw Bubbs walk into the brig and ask Jacob a question as she strode past his cell. Rogers’ vision focused in on the man, and he spotted the two pieces of metal that Jacob held.
A moment later, the brig shook with an explosion, and Rogers’ view filled with smoke. He couldn’t tell if Jacob or Bubbs was injured.
Has this already happened? No…there aren’t any alerts on the Link….
He wondered if it was his mind trying to parse ambient sensor data coming through his connection to the ship. Was it trying to warn him?
She didn’t answer, and her silence spurred him on. He grabbed the weapon from his hip as the lift doors opened, then he stabbed the button for the brig level. Just as he got there, an explosion rocked the deck beneath his feet, and the Barbaric Queen’s fire alarms sounded. Lights flashed, and Rogers grabbed onto the bulkhead to steady himself.
“Bubbs! Answer me!” he called out as he reached the metal doors leading to the brig.
They had automatically sealed due to the explosion. In his daze, he first tried to prise them open with his fingertips before realizing that would never work.
He brought the system reports up on his HUD, seeing fire suppression systems active in the brig, and noting that the air filtration systems weren’t running. No hull breaches were apparent, but the door’s locking mechanisms were offline. On top of that, the automated brig containment systems were venting atmosphere from the section—something Rogers realized the ship’s previous owners must have set up to stop any attempts at escape—or a straight up mutiny.