The Ghost Fleet

by Trevor Wyatt

  I run through a small access way into the entrance bay. The sharp flash of escaping pressurized air fills my ears. The entrance bay is almost as large as the cargo hold, although it is more longitudinal to allow for vehicles driving in and out of the ship during pick up or drop down missions. It’s basically Spartan, a metal box of hull plating. There is a small panel of buttons by the hatch, which commands the hatch to slide up into its home. From there, a door can be opened to the cargo hold.

  Alex and Garret are waiting for me in the entrance bay. I join them.

  “What do you think they want?” asks Alex.

  My reply is simple and sincere. “I’ll be damned if I knew.”

  There’s a warning sound, which is followed by the main doors sliding up. I see their boots first, because the door slides up slowly. Then I see their neatly- pressed khaki pants. Then I see their guns and their hardened face. There must have been a hundred of them. The moment they could walk straight through without banging their heads against the rising door, they flood the entrance bay, their guns pointed at us and yelling for us to show our hands.

  Our hands rise into the air. A couple of soldiers peel off from the invading party to secure us in restraints. The rest spread through the ship and one manipulates the main control switch by the door and opens the blast door connecting the entrance bay and the cargo hold. About five soldiers hold positions in the entrance bay while another ten enter the cargo hold via the open blast doors.

  A group of ten officers carry an assortment of scanning devices into our ship. Some of the devices were handheld. Some were hefted along the ground. Following them through is the lady commander.

  “Search every square inch of this ship,” she orders the scientists with the scanners. “I want that ale found!”

  When I hear her command, my heart chills with fear. The next thing I know is I’m filled with an overwhelming desire to run. But then I have nowhere to run. I’m doomed. Following this realization are pictures of being confined to a dark cell on some prison world in some backwater star system of the Union.

  I swallow hard and hold my head up high as I am approached by the commander. The lady looks at all three of us and then focuses on me.

  “Captain Jeremy,” she addresses me formally.

  “Yes,” I reply, trying to cover the distance between us for maybe a handshake. I’m pulled back by the trooper that is holding me.

  He mutters for me to stay put in a voice that could probably put the fear of god in living creature. I know I am screwed.

  “Can you please tell me the reason for this invasion?” Bob screams and spits as he is pushed into the entrance bay. He falls flat before us. I try to help him, but the trooper holding me butts me in the back of my head with his weapons causing me to see stars for a brief moment. When I come to, I’m still standing and so is Bob, who is now in restraints to my side.

  “I say stay put,” comes the deadly voice in my ears.

  The lady commander has an animated look on her face. She says, “We received intelligence that you’re carrying contraband ale. In fact, we were informed that the ale you’re carrying contains a banned psychotropic substance known in the underworld as DX350. Do you deny this?”

  “Of course I deny them,” I retort. “We are only carrying medical supplies to the planet Xaviwa. We would never knowingly bring banned items in Union territory. Plus, I’d like to know who I’m addressing.”

  The lady said, “Call me No One.”

  “That all?” I say with a sarcastic tome. “Not Captain No One or Commodore NO-“

  I’m head butted again. This time I fall flat to the ground, spew blood, and feel my head pound for way longer than I care to remember. Within seconds, I am rudely hefted up to my feet and made to stand up even though all my legs and I want to do is lie on the floor and sleep.

  A scientist returns to the entrance bay and whispers something in the lady’s ears. Soon after, Sibiu is bustled into the entrance and made to stand in line with his, having his own personal trooper holding him tightly in spite of his restraints.

  No One smiles for the first time and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I almost sigh wistfully.

  “Guess what we found in the hidden compartment beneath your cargo hold?”

  My face changes with practice ease as I display shock. “What?” I demand. Then for theatrics, I add, “What did you people plant in the secondary cargo hold?” I intentionally use another name for ‘secret’, simply because secret connotes deception and deception is what I’m trying to distance myself and my crew from.

  The Captain rolls her eyes and scoffs aloud. She grabs the tablet from the scientist’s hands and reads off a preliminary analysis of my contraband, specifications I am all too familiar with. When she’s done, she looks up at me and cocks her right eyebrow as though encouraging me to refute the claims.

  Still playing the surprised captain, I look to my crew. “What the fuck? Did you guys bring contraband into my ship?” I sound furious and yell, such that few of the numerous, milling Union crew in the cruiser’s humongous entrance bay ahead turn to look at me. My crew mates, who are already versed in the arts of deception, make up strange faces, some of shock others of anger, mumbling all at once that they didn’t.

  I glance back at No One, my frown deepening. “Look, lady, I don’t know what games you’re playing but I don’t have any contraband onboard my ship.”

  “Then why did you try to run?” she asks.

  “I already told you,” I reply, frustration bleeding into my voice. “This ship isn’t exactly new. It’s an old bucket of rust. Its FTL drive sometimes malfunctions. It’s not our fault that it so happens to malfunction in the presence of a Union Cruiser who so illegally boarded us.” I feel it coming. I’m expecting it. The butt of the trooper’s gun.

  The lady looks above my head at the trooper and I am spared this time.

  No One turns to the science officer to her side. Handing over the tabled, she says, “Run a finger print scan.”

  This is when I know I’m really screwed.

  The science officer takes the tablet and runs the scan. He looks up at the lady. “I have about seventeen prints. Five out of these seventeen match all five of the crew of this ship.”

  I open my mouth instinctively to protest and the lady holds her peace, wanting to hear my defense. However, I am out of defense. I couldn’t defend myself against the truth.

  The lady says, “I hereby place you and your crew under arrest, and by the authority vested in me by the Union I charge you with contempt, resisting arrest, and possession of contraband DX350. Each of these crimes carry a minimum penalty of thirty years imprisonment. I hereby decide that you all will be serving all three penalties in consecutive order…”

  We grumble aloud.

  “And,” No one continues, “You’ll be serving it in a Level 7 Maximum Security Prison Facility.”

  Now, we scream our protest. The troopers hold us back. This time, the trooper holding me does not head butt me with his gun. I apparently have the right to protest.

  No-One waits for us to calm down. By this time, a large percentage of the soldiers who had earlier furthered into the ship are retreating back into the entrance bay.

  “You have two options,” the woman says. “You either serve your sentence. Or we can have it expunged and you get to be heroes.”

  I frown, even though my heartbeat begins to recede. Anything is better than ninety years in a level 7 maximum prison.

  “What’s the catch?” I say. Then I think of a joke, and knowing it may get me head butted again, I still go ahead and say it. “Or did you suddenly develop a heart.”

  She raises her hands to prevent me from being head butted. The trooper holding me isn’t too happy with this as he grunts his dissatisfaction. I begin to wonder if he and the lady are some sort of item. Are they having some sort of sexual relationship? Is this why he feels he has to defend her honor and dignity every fucking time?

  “
One of the border worlds is in path of a Sonali fleet, led by one of their Star Destroyers,” she says. “We are currently overwhelmed and can’t send reinforcements just yet. But this planet is critical to the Earth-Sonali war. So, we want you and your crew to smuggle an explosive device into the ship and detonate it from a safe distance. This will temporarily relieve the planet and give us the time to reorganize and protect that planet.”

  The Earth-Sonali war has been going on ever since that accursed frigate The Seeker went looking for The Mariner. I have tried my best to stay out of the war. Letting them destroy each other, while I profit from their efforts, has basically been my ideology towards the war. Now, it seems I will not be able to run from this anymore.

  “What if we refuse?” I ask.

  “Then you spend the rest of your lives in prison under the worst of circumstances,” she replies without batting an eyelid.

  I swallow hard. Even though the mission isn’t exactly difficult, the prospect of meeting anyone of those Sonali people is daunting. I have heard of smugglers doing business with them, especially in the area of human trafficking for large scale human experimentation and selling them military hardware and information. All I have is ale. Maybe I can convince them it’s some sort of wonder drug to make super soldiers. I mean, these are aliens. They don’t know much about us, except that they want to annihilate us. All I need to do is to sell them the ale and sneak in the explosive that way. And I’m gone.

  I look No One in the eyes and say, “We’ll do it.”

  My crew protests. I silence them with one look. I return my glace to No-One, soften my look, and say, “On one condition. You pay us for this run.”

  The lady sneers so much I begin to wonder at myself. “If it is money you want, we’ll double what you’re making. Just get the job done.”

  “Okay, then,” I say, happy once again. “We’ll do it.”

  The lady barks an order at the science officer for the restraints to be taken off. As soon as I am freed from the restraints, I turn to see the trooper who has been hitting me. He is an impossibly muscular Caucasian with a rough, handsome face and a knife-sharp look. He looks down at me with immense contempt, like I’m a vile worm in his eyes.

  “I apologize for Kyle,” No One was saying. “He is not particularly fond of space pirates.”

  Kyle takes the opportunity to speak and all I hear is intense hatred. “I think you guys are the vermin of our existence.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Whoa, okay, someone has some issues.” I notice his face redden with anger and take several steps back until I’m practically standing at No One’s side. “I like to think of myself as a business person.”

  About five minutes later, a float platform is guided into the entrance bay. On it are five subcutaneous insertion devices that look like guns. Beside these devices is a silver briefcase.

  No One picks up one of the guns and approaches me. I take a step back and bump into Kyle, who is more than happy to grab me and hold me in place. No One gives him the eye and he lets me go.

  No One tells me, “It’s just nanites. It’s how we make sure you stay focused on the mission and don’t get ideas. It has a distance of about two light years, which is the maximum distance you should put between your ship and ours.”

  “Will you be following us?”

  She nods. “Just beyond the long range scanners of the Sonali ship. When we confirm the destruction of the ship, we will deactivate the nanintes and you’ll flush them out the next time you pee. Then we will transfer your money and you’ll be heroes. If you fail, then you will go down as noble men.”

  “If we run?” this question is asked by Garret.

  No One looks him in the eye when she delivers her reply. “Then we activate the nanites, blow your brains and your ship, and go find some more pirates.”

  We are all injected soon afterward. No One hands me the briefcase, whishes me luck, and departs our space ship with most of her goon squad. Some engineers from the Cruiser are sent to help Bob repair the FTL. Bob is happy for all the help and spare parts he can get.

  During that time, Sibiu and I secrete the briefcase in one of the crates containing the ale. By the time I’m back in the bridge with Garret and Alex, our ship has been released from the tractor hold of the Cruiser and we have been given the coordinates of the planet, which is three light years away.

  “It’ll take us three days to get there,” Garret announces.

  Bob, who is patched in to the bridge from engineering, says, “The FTL drive is singing like a bird and ready to go.”

  “Thanks, Bob,” I say, and cut the patch to engineering.

  “Is it worth it?” Alex asks. “I think we should take our chances and run away.”

  I shook my head in disagreement. “They’ll kill us with that long range switch they have on their ship.”

  “That’s against Union regulations, Jeremy,” Garret says. “Even if they had such capability, they wouldn’t. They could get court marshaled for such act.”

  “These guys aren’t your average Union military,” I reply. “That lady was an intelligence officer. That ship is most probably a black ops outfit. Black ops outfits can do whatever the heck they want and get away with it. Plot a course to the coordinates we received.”

  “Course plotted,” Garret replies seconds later. “Ready to engage the FTL drive.”

  I relax back in my chair. “Engage.”

  Three days later, we fall out of faster than light travel with the sirens blaring. I see the huge ship in time to yell. “Evasive maneuvers!”

  Garret, whose hands I trust in situations like this, does not waste time to look for the threat that has alarmed me. He throws the stick to the left, causing the corvette to bank left. I’m thrown off my Captain’s chairs. We dive just in time to escape the three flashes of laser fire that would have cut a hole right through our shields.

  “Sir,” Garret says, “we are being hailed by the ship.”

  I rise from the floor where I had been unceremoniously deposited by the lurching ship. Garret is smartly bringing us around to face the ship. It is a technological marvel, with fine angles and streamlined bulkheads that brilliantly reflects the light from the twin star at the center of the system.

  “We are also being vigorously scanned,” he announces.

  Garret brings us to a stop with just enough space between us to dive or bank in time to evade another laser blast. We are severely and outrageously dwarfed by the Sonali Star Destroyer. Its very presence casts a small but discernible shadow over the blue and green planet beneath us. We are barely a speck in the dust to it. I know I am exaggerating our size, but that’s how I feel.

  I say, “Open up a channel.”

  My view screen dissolves and fills with the image of a big, blue humanoid creature. It speaks its language, which the translator automatically translates in a flaccid tone.

  “Unidentified human ship,” the Sonali Captain is saying. “Prepare to be destroyed.”

  I have somehow managed to reach my Captain chair. I am standing in a rigid stance. Of course, the prospect of being destroyed isn’t sounding so good to my hearing.

  “My name is Captain Jeremy Black, Captain of The White Silk,” I say with my best, charming voice. “We mean you no harm.”

  “You mean us no harm, yet you jump into the system just behind us?” roars the Captain.

  I curse the Union navigator who had calculated the coordinates. I curse them and their entire generational line.

  I say, “We are sorry. We miscalculated. Anyways, we heard there might be a Sonali ship in the area so we decided to come check it out.”

  “Check it out?” the captain asks as though he couldn’t just figure out what that means.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I heard you might be giving big bucks for information, weapons, lab rats, and maybe that something that human soldiers take to make them super…”

  The captain looks a little more confused than I anticipate. He leans away from view to whis
per to some unseen officer. Then he returns back to view with what I guess passes for a smile in Sonali. It is hideous by the way as it reveals denture that are less than stellar and could break the heart. I have never seen the Sonali this up close before, so I don’t know if this is the way their teeth naturally are or if this particular captain just needs to go see the dentist—more than once, though.

  “You a mercenary?” the captain asks. There is a little glint in his eyes. And the way his lips slide a little apart as though ready to sneer tells me he may be the greedy, cunning sort that wants any underhand advantage to lord it over his enemies. Greed is something I can take advantage of.

  “Well, I like to call myself a businessman,” I say. “I really don’t care for this war you got going with the Union. I just want to make my money and live my life. It matters little to me who wins…”

  “So, you a mercenary?” he asks again.

  You would think I have made an impression with my little speech there.

  I nod once.

  “I have enough humans to last me several years,” the captain says. “Also, our scans do not reveal any unusual energy reading that would suggest a sophisticated weapon that might interest me. I doubt if you have any human weapon I have not already acquired from other sorts like you. …”

  I begin to wonder if others like me survived the encounter. I have been running smuggling runs along the border of the Outer Colonies for a long time, even before the war began. I know most of the hangouts. I talk to others. I network. I’m a businessman, dammit!

  And yet, I have never heard of any smuggler working with these dudes. But then again, smugglers tend to be solipsistic; I know I am.

  “But that drug you mentioned…” the Sonali whispers. “I may be interested in it.”

  “Yes,” I say. Then I begin to narrate what little knowledge I have of the Armada’s failed super soldier program—at least they say it failed. With these Armada military sorts, you never really do know until you are within their ranks. And even if you are within their ranks, you really can’t have access to that kind of information if you aren’t cleared.