Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far)

by Casey Calouette

  “Oh and Lieutenant, if you can’t secure that ship, have the Scylla blast it.”

  William nodded. “After that?”

  “You will rendezvous with the fleet, the Admiral is making a push. One hell of a fleet, too. They’ve got two carriers, the Lyons and Nantucket. Four heavy battlecruisers, six heavy assault cruisers and enough support to dance with the devil.” Cain rolled up the tablet and tucked it under his arm like a baton.

  “Send Lieutenant Yamaguchi my way please,” Colonel Viljoen said to William.

  “Very well Mr. Grace, carry out your orders,” Commodore Cain said.

  William stood and nodded tiredly. “What of Captain Khan?”

  “When she stabilizes she’ll be sent back to Earth to recover,” Cain said. His tone said he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Very well, sir.”

  William was escorted by the Marine back through the ship. The hallways had erupted with movement. Trails of soldiers, sailors, civilians, and Marines flowed around him. It was like he was a slow moving log in a river of activity.

  He almost told the Marine that he could find his own way but didn’t want to be rude. The Aleutian was almost a clone of his first duty assignment, the Lawrence. It even smelled the same.

  *

  The Malta was, in a few short hours, completely different. The full bulk of the Aleutian’s maintenance drones swarmed on everything. Lights were still off in places and soot was tucked into every corner and crevice. But most importantly the smell was going away.

  William inserted himself into the routine and helped where he could. The ship was bursting with activity. On the outside the hull glowed with nanite energy. Larger repairs were done with welding robots. The conduit was placed, tenderly, into position.

  They discovered the dead while sweeping through the ship. The Commodore came across the umbilical with a full honor guard of Marines and gave a proper a burial. They did not bury the dead, but instead launched them into space.

  William would miss Zinkov. The stuttering Lieutenant was an oddity, but he was still a friend.

  The packet of orders came in the hands of a Naval lawyer. He had never received orders before but assumed it would be a basic packet or list of instructions. This was a good bit more complex. Every manner of contingency was noted, ranging from asteroid labor disputes to salvage rights.

  He was now legally in command. It took him a moment for it to finally set in. On Redmond it was a stroke of luck, or fate. As the only Commisioned Officer alive, command fell to him, on this occasion the Commodore could have assigned someone else and he knew it

  *

  William, for the second time in his career, claimed a cabin filled with the debris of someone else's life.

  The door opened with a crunch and jammed. The outer office had a mass of plastic tubing spilled out like animal intestines. He pushed them aside and continued to the Captain’s chamber. The atmosphere light glowed bright green. Safe.

  The light flickered as he entered. One entire wall of cabinets was spilled open with the contents laying on the floor. A bed was tucked against one wall with a small wooden desk against the other.

  He stood a slender legged wooden chair upright and sat. Ribs still ached and the wound felt raw, even through the narcotic painkillers in the nanite patches.

  Across the room lay the accumulation of a career. A pic frame flickered between shots of promotions, handshakes, crews, and ships. An alloy model of the Malta lay on the floor with the nose cracked off.

  He felt like a voyeur. His eyes watched the photos as they flickered past one by one. A family portrait caught his eye. A happy family stood over a little girl. Behind was a hut and fields of green. He looked away—that was too personal.

  “Mr. Reed, add a task for someone to package up Captain Khan’s cabin and offload it, please,” William said.

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Reed replied.

  He tapped his fingers against the wooden desk as fatigue set in, and nodded off.

  *

  With the repairs nearly finished and the compliment loaded William made his way to the galley.

  He found most of the crew waiting for the shift meal.

  Avi, with his blunt nose and chopped ears, was manning the galley window. “Captain, what’ll it be?”

  William smiled back at his old friend. “Funny,” he said. There was only one menu item today. He waited as Avi slid a giant spoonful of reddish pasta into his mouth. Calling it spaghetti would be a crime against the Italian provinces. He saw Reed sitting with Yamaguchi and dropped his plate down next to them.

  “Gentlemen,” William said.

  The tone of the table changed. William realized that he was no longer just the XO, or an Officer, but he was it. The Old Man.

  “Captain.” The two nodded.

  “Still on track Mr. Reed?”

  “Close enough, you’ll have most of the critical systems by the deadline,” Reed glanced around the room as if looking for something he missed.

  William looked to Yamaguchi. “And you?”

  Yamaguchi nodded and sighed. “For the most part. I could use a full platoon, as it is I’ve got a jumbo sized squad. Sons-of-bitches didn’t want to part.”

  William liked Yamaguchi. The Army Lieutenant was perpetually angry.

  The elephant in the room was the Anabaptist giant. Everyone had taken a shine to the cast-off. At first it seemed like he would get in the way but after a very short time he proved himself skilled with tools. After that his hands, large enough to palm a pumpkin, were called in for delicate welds.

  “How is Mr. Yoder getting along?” William asked.

  “He wants to stay,” Reed said.

  “What do you think, Gooch?” William said as he took a mouthful of food in.

  “Not my responsibility. Though I could find a recruiter who could sell him ice cubes for an arctic deployment.” Yamaguchi looked around the table and stood with a half filled plate. “I’m off, I’ll be ready. Let’s see if Abe can cook, this shit is horrible. ”

  William wanted to agree but ate placidly. He saw Avi hunched, watching proudly through the galley window. William raised his fork in a mock salute and forced more down.

  “Can you use him, Mr. Reed?”

  Reed sat back and bulged out his stomach. “Hmm, no.”

  William nodded and looked around the room. Lieutenant Zinkov’s replacement was seated by himself shoveling in the spaghetti like it was his last supper. The Austrian Sergeant named Gruber wore an old world Mohawk half a centimeter high. He had a very serious look on his face. The look was especially comical seeing the red sauce speckled on his white scalp.

  “Mr. Reed, send Sergeant Gruber with Mr. Yoder to the briefing room,” William said. He stood and shoved the rest of the noodles into the trash when Avi wasn’t looking.

  “You’ll make a Marine out of him?” Reed asked, surprised.

  “No, we’ll talk about it. That’ll be Sergeant Gruber’s job.” William walked out of the room with his eye on Abraham. He hoped his hunch wasn’t a mistake.

  *

  Abraham’s heart hammered nervously in his chest as he walked down the passage. The person who was a Lieutenant on the ground was now the Captain. An elder in his own way. This took him a moment to grasp—rank was a very different thing before.

  He’d absorbed himself into his work. Exhaustion was the only way he could sleep. Every task was a new challenge with new materials and new tools. He enjoyed it, and found it to be his only release.

  Violence was a foreign concept to him. He thought on his actions. It didn’t fit him, of that he was sure.

  As he laid awake trying to sleep all he could think about was the maul—about the heavy steel head penetrating into that soldier as it punched through the armor. It seemed like a machine he struck not a man. Killing a machine he could handle, but a man was something different.

  He paused and found his bearings. Everything seemed to look the same inside. On the ground he could trus
t his senses to sense North, South, and where the cow barns were. The smells of the galley anchored him in one axis, with the hum of the drive on another.

  The door of the conference room slid aside with a slight corner askew. Inside the walls sagged slightly with a heat bulge on the back side. Lieutenant Grace sat with Sergeant Gruber across the table.

  He still wasn’t sure how a Lieutenant could be a Captain, but he assumed it was one of those things he’d pick up.

  “Come, please sit, Abraham.” Captain Grace beckoned to a chair.

  Abraham nodded and sat on the slender chair. It squeaked underneath him and his arms hung oddly off the sides.

  “This is Sergeant Gruber. He’s in command of the Marines on the Malta.”

  Sergeant Gruber nodded sharply.

  Abraham stole a quick glance at the Mohawk.

  Captain Grace slid his hands across the alloy table. “We’ll be leaving soon. Abraham. I’m offering you a choice, you can stay on the Malta or we’ll get you back on the ground.”

  A draft of air slid into the room, It smelled of garlic and the mustiness that still hadn’t disappeared.

  Abraham knew this question would come but he dreaded it. He was running from that decision, from that moment of truth where he’d have to choose a path. If he stayed, he’d not be a Anabaptist, not in his father’s eyes. If he left the Malta he’d face the unknown on the ground.

  Somehow facing the unknown on the stars haunted him less than what we he could live with on the ground. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about vengeance, but something seemed righteous.

  “In situations like this, we can impress men as needed into the crew. Normally they are experienced spacers. You would not be an impressed man, but a volunteer.” Captain Grace glanced at Sergeant Gruber. “Sergeant Gruber has volunteered to take you on as a Marine, until you can find a proper recruiter.”

  Abraham darted his eyes back and forth and sat with a rigid back. He felt warm, very warm. Violence was not something he was comfortable with. “I, uh, Captain…”

  Captain Grace sat back and looked over at Sergeant Gruber. “Sergeant, can you explain to Mr. Yoder what a Marine is?”

  Sergeant Gruber snapped his chin up and nodded. The Mohawk seemed to float on top of his head.

  “Yes sir. A Marine is responsible for the security of a starship and its crew. This includes defensive action and offensive action by boarding. In other duties we are deployed on the ground.,” Sergeant Gruber said in an accent of mixed Austrian and something else like a drawl.

  The Sergeant was eying Abraham up as if he was buying a horse.

  “The training for now would be basic. Once we arrive at a fleet transfer station we would send you to a recruiter.” Captain Grace nodded and leaned forward on the table. “What do you think Abraham?”

  Abraham felt their eyes upon him. All they wanted was to help him, he knew that, but this wasn’t a path he could walk, not yet.

  “May I speak freely, Captain?” Abraham asked. He heard others say the same phrase.

  Captain Grace sat back and nodded.

  Abraham glanced between the two. “I, uh, this is hard to talk about.” He cleared his throat and started again. “I did what I did on the ground in a moment of anger. Had I not brought the maul my father would be alive.”

  Silence laid thick on the table.

  “I don’t want to offend either of you.” Abraham snapped his eyes to both men. “But I’m not sure I could be a Marine.”

  Captain Grace looked at Sergeant Gruber. “Thank you, Sergeant, send in the Maronites, please.”

  Sergeant Gruber stood with a disappointed look on his face. “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Grace waited until the door closed. “On a ship everyone has a purpose, everything has a purpose. There is no extra wire, pipe, conduit, or tubing unless there needs to be.”

  Abraham nodded. It was much the same as he had known on the ground.

  “Now if I can’t find a job for you, and the pickings are slim, you’ll have to go back to the ground.” Captain Grace looked at Abraham with serious eyes. “What can you do?”

  “I, uh, I’m good with my hands.”

  Captain Grace smiled with the corner of his mouth. “With those big paws? Go on.”

  “Wood mostly, I’ve worked some iron, and spent time at a foundry.” Abraham was getting excited and his voice showed it. “Cabinets, frames, tables, nails, the foundry poured all sorts of things in bronze. Big beautiful castings that you’d bust open.” His eyes glowed

  “Enough, you’ll not find that sort of technology on a starship,” William said. He looked down to the table and sighed.

  Any skill Abraham had was out of date by three hundred years. If he couldn’t find work here he’d have to go on the ground and face his fate. He wasn’t ready for it, not yet.

  “I—” Abraham began as Grace cut him off.

  “Here’s the deal. Two parts. First, I’ll send you down to work with Engineering. Huron and Reed will do you well. Do you speak Aramaic?”

  Abraham nodded slowly. “Yes, enough to get by at the market.”

  “We have some asteroid miners coming on to supplement the crew. They won’t be happy. You’re my go-between.”

  Abraham nodded and stifled a smile. He liked working with Huron and Reed. The two men from Mars were quirky, inquisitive, and constantly bantered when working. Translating with the Maronites wasn’t likely to be enjoyable, they were stubborn and difficult.

  “What’s the second part?” Abraham asked.

  “You’ll spend half your time with Sergeant Gruber. Not as a Marine, or a recruit, but as a helper. He’s understaffed.”

  “That is acceptable.” Abraham extended a hand across the table.

  Captain Grace smiled at the hand and grasped it. “Geez kid, you have some monster mitts.”

  Abraham grew a slight smile and relaxed.

  “Open the door please and invite the miners in,” Captain Grace said as he shuffled on his seat.

  Abraham tripped a bit as he stood and caught himself before he hit the door. He turned to Grace and smiled sheepishly. “Excited a bit, sir.”

  “Not for long.”

  The door opened and Sergeant Gruber stood with a particularly unhappy look on his face. A half dozen men, red in the face and stomping mad, seethed with anger.

  Abraham didn’t feel quite as good anymore.

  *

  The Malta departed with little fanfare. New heroes arrived from the Aleutian for a much longer stay. Faris was present, not to see them off, but to put forth one last protest. Seeing the crew of his prized asteroid miner impressed into service threw him into a fit.

  That particular crew had, through sheer luck, delivered a deadly blow to the Sa’Ami dropship. As they came around Canaan they launched every bit of ore they had. Deep nodules of nickel, tungsten, niobium, and technetium punched through the dropship. They were heroes, to be lauded forever on Canaan. Though, for now, they were an unwilling crew on the understaffed Malta.

  The dropship was a wounded beast limping off into the dark. The orders were simple: catch it, secure it, or kill it. Signatures of reactor failure were coupled with harmonics from Haydn drive seizures. It was trying to run. But with the equivalent of a pair of broken legs, it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Everyone wondered what sort of teeth the beast had left. Word spread to prepare. They would do three blinks. Three short hops that went towards nowhere, a gravity well far out into deep space that could lead to anywhere.

  The Maronites initially grumbled, gnashed teeth, gesticulated, and shouted. Once the Malta left dock they set their heads down and got to work. Huron and Reed spread out and supervised as they could with Abraham, always a step behind.

  The giant Anabaptist made a bunk next to a series of hydraulic pumps and found himself awoken by Maronite and UC Navy at every occasion. The impressed men were of high quality, but used to a particularly lax routine.

  Yamaguchi had a minimum squad. Barely e
nough to put into marching order. He pleaded. He begged. He was near to preparing a bribe when more troops were offered. Two more squads. One equipped with power armor and the other in traditional impact armor.

  The power armor squad was clean, fresh, new. They were commanded by a thick faced Sergeant named Hull. His cheeks were a permanent ruddy red as if he’d spent an afternoon sunbathing on the hull.

  The second squad came in the new style of impact armor. The armor was flowing, graceful, smooth. It was designed to deflect forces away. The outer coating was a near frictionless nanite layer. It lacked durability like the heavier panel armor, but was much preferred by the troops.

  The new squads both had that new garrison feel. Shaved faces and plenty of sleep.

  His original squad hadn’t seemed able to polish away the yellow that clung to every surface. The mud of Canaan was a permanent badge.

  *

  Yamaguchi posed with one leg on a suit of power armor. He was like a conqueror of old with a beast beneath. He ignored the maintenance bot crawling around it. “Here it is. PA suits are going in first. Once we determine the atmosphere, we’ll bring in the rest.”

  Around him stood his three meager squads. He shifted men from the new squad to his own and was left with sixteen suits. The newcomers stood separate from the veterans.

  A loud bang echoed from across the hall. He looked up from the group and watched a maintenance squad wrestle with a brace.

  “We know someone is alive inside, or think so. But I’m not terribly interested in prisoners,” Yamaguchi said.

  “I am,” Captain Grace said from the rear of the pack.

  Heads turned.

  Yamaguchi lifted a hand and nodded. “There it is, from the mouth of god.” His tone was a touch on the mocking side. “Get a prisoner if possible.” He paused. “Once we get the all clear from the Captain we’ll grapple with boarding lines. Inside expect striders, defense drones, and of course real people. We’re going in with full loads, puncturing the hull isn’t a worry here.” Yamaguchi scanned the crowd. “Questions?”