by Dan Krokos
Chapter Two
Mason turned around slowly. Commander Lockwood loomed over him, his face a rigid scowl.
“I’ve got it, Patrick, thank you,” Lockwood said to the security guard walking toward them.
Mason would have rather gone with the guard.
Lockwood wasn’t a bad guy—in fact, when they were on the SS Egypt together, he was the only officer who really gave the cadets any notice. But he was also fierce, with a hawkish face that was now more intense with his scars. Lockwood had almost died on the Egypt, a victim of several burns from the Tremist energy weapons, but some quick thinking by the cadets kept him alive. Afterward, Lockwood had asked to transfer to Academy II to continue working with the cadets. He taught Mason and his crew in Advanced Space Combat II, which focused on the smaller fighters in the ESC fleet.
“Sir,” Mason said, snapping to attention.
Lockwood continued to stare down at him, which was hard because Mason was now almost the same height. “Son, do you realize how much it will cost to fix these pads?”
“No, sir.”
“Sir,” Stellan began. “I can explain, they—”
“Cadet Runeberg, you are dismissed,” Lockwood said.
Stellan opened his mouth again.
“The word I used was dismissed, Stellan. I did not say Please, I invite you to discuss this further with me.”
“Apologies, sir,” Stellan said, then stole a glance at Mason, who gave him a tiny nod. Then Stellan walked away.
Lockwood turned his gaze back to Mason. “You fired a Tremist energy weapon on school grounds. Can you even fathom the punishment that accompanies a charge like that?”
Mason was sweating now; it dripped down his spine. He wanted to say Please don’t make me leave, but said, “No, sir,” instead.
“They don’t have a charge for it, because they can’t imagine it ever happening, ever. Because the very idea of a Tremist energy weapon being discharged on school grounds is rather insane, don’t you think?”
“Insane, sir. Definitely insane.”
Lockwood drew in a long whistling breath through his nose, then exhaled just as slowly. Mason couldn’t keep his eyes off the pinkish skin on his neck. Only six months ago, it was black, and Lockwood was on his deathbed, giving command of the Egypt over to Mason.
“Come with me,” Lockwood said.
Mason did as he was told, for once. Lockwood led him out of the gym through a side exit.
“Eyes forward!” Lockwood barked when he caught Mason peeking back at Marcus and his cronies, who were being led toward a different exit.
They left the gym, and Mason bumped into a cadet right outside the doorway. “Sorry—Tom!”
Tom Renner stood with his arms folded, frowning deeply. Only Tom Renner could frown like that. “Who was right, Stark? I said you couldn’t mess up again. Seven demerits. Yet you had to get that eighth one before the first year was over, didn’t you?”
Mason couldn’t argue. “What are you doing here?”
Tom shrugged. “I was summoned by our old pal Lockwood here.”
“Excuse me?” Lockwood said.
“Sir. I mean I was summoned by Commander Lockwood, sir.” Tom’s attitude toward the rules had softened a bit since the Egypt.
Lockwood grumbled something unintelligible as they walked around the circular hallway that would lead them to the tunnels and to the headmaster’s office, where Mason would quickly be ejected from Academy II and the Earth Space Command.
But why would Lockwood summon them both?
“What’s this about, sir?” Mason asked Lockwood.
“It’s not for me to say.”
If Tom was here, there was a good chance Mason wasn’t going directly to the headmaster.
“Are they going to kick me out?” Mason said.
“I guess you should have thought about that before damaging school equipment.” Lockwood let that sit for a moment, while Mason sweated. Then he added, “But I don’t think the ESC is dumb enough to give up their biggest propaganda tool since the start of the war.”
Mason didn’t like the sound of that. He’d been approached by several recruiting chiefs who wanted to use him in new ads. There was no shortage of applications to the ESC, but they were hoping to attract the best and brightest. Mason’s accomplishments at such a young age, they said, were a real advertisement for Academy I. Mason had politely explained that he couldn’t have done it without his team, but they didn’t care. They wanted a face to go with their ads, a voice. Mason looked up to find Lockwood watching him.
“I didn’t mean that,” Lockwood said quietly. “You’re more than that, Stark.” And then, as if he remembered Mason was in trouble, he said, “Keep walking.”
They followed the track back to Academy II, which was partially built into the mountain. Mason’s heart started to pound when they took a lift to the top level, where the administration offices were located. Yep, we’re going to see the headmaster.
“Have you done something wrong?” Mason asked Tom.
Tom made a face. “Please. Do you even know me?”
“There was that time you—”
Tom elbowed him in the ribs, and Mason fell silent. Lockwood raised a scarred eyebrow but said nothing.
The commander led them to the office at the far end. Mason had been inside before. It was Headmaster Oleg’s new office, which had a wide, panoramic view of the red planet.
Lockwood shook their hands. He seemed upset about something, not quite wanting to make eye contact. “Boys,” he said. “No matter what, it’s been an honor.”
Uh-oh.
Lockwood started away.
“You definitely did something,” Mason said to Tom. Tom punched him in the shoulder. Mason thought about punching back, but then they’d be rolling around in the hallway on the administration level.
“I did not,” Tom said. “But let’s hurry this up. I have class in twenty minutes.” His attitude toward the rules may have relaxed, but not his attitude toward classes.
Mason knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said a voice from within. Not Headmaster Oleg’s voice …
Mason opened the door. Sitting behind Oleg’s desk was Grand Admiral Shahbazian.
Chapter Three
Mason hadn’t seen Grand Admiral Shahbazian—or “GAS,” to use the nickname given to him by students at A2—since they were both aboard the Will to sign the treaty. Talking to him had been awful then, and it didn’t seem like this conversation was going to be any better, judging by the expression on his face. By all appearances, the grand admiral would rather be out on the surface of Mars right now, without a space suit.
“Sir,” Mason and Tom said together, saluting. This man was in charge of the entire Earth Space Command.
“Sit down,” the grand admiral replied sharply.
They did, taking the seats across from Shahbazian. Mason couldn’t help but think of him as GAS. He felt a tickle in the back of his throat, the start of a laugh.
“Do you know why I’ve called you here today?” GAS said.
Mason had exactly zero ways of knowing why he was there. It was probably the dumbest question he’d ever heard.
“Let me get to the point,” GAS said. “What I am about to share with you is classified beyond Top Secret. Do you understand what that means? It means sharing this information would result in imprisonment. For life.”
Mason swallowed. Then he reminded himself that he was part of the crew that saved the Olympus space station from getting literally eaten by a Fangborn ship. So GAS couldn’t be all that scary anymore.
Right?
“I asked you both a direct question.”
“Yes, sir,” Mason said.
“I understand, sir,” Tom added.
GAS waited a dramatic beat, then nodded. “Very good.” A storm was picking up outside, the barren reddish landscape blurry with fine dust. “One of our spies has discovered a piece of intelligence which indicates the Tremist are working on some kind of sec
ret project. The nature of this project is unclear, but I believe it may revolve around some kind of weapons program. Normally there would be no way for us to verify this, but the intelligence sector is certain this project is taking place inside the Rhadgast school on Skars. We need to be aware if they plan to violate the treaty.”
“The Tremist have been nothing but cooperative so far,” Mason said. And then, as an afterthought, he added, “Sir.” Tom kicked his leg.
It was true. The Tremist and humans were getting along famously, when you considered the circumstances. Earth had been stolen by the Tremist and transported to their solar system, to orbit the Tremist sun they simply called Renshas, which translated to “sun” in the Tremist language. Earth had adjusted, for the most part, since the calculations had been perfect. Tidal and seismic activity had not returned to normal, but that was because both planets were now affected by each other’s gravity. The presence of Skars had overcompensated for the lack of the moon. But if the rumors were true, Skars hadn’t completely adjusted to Earth, either.
Standing on the surface of either Earth or Skars, the other planet appeared like a tiny glowing marble in the night sky, smaller in appearance than Earth’s moon, which was still back in the Sol system. In between both planets, Tremist and humans were working together to assemble a new planet-sized cross gate, which would allow Earth to return to its rightful solar system. Unfortunately, they were still years away from completing the gate.
Tremist were not allowed on Earth, and humans were not allowed on Skars, but the races mingled and conversed and traded and learned about each other on humanity’s largest space station, the Olympus, and on the Tremist’s largest space station, the Will. Both stations were parked midway between the planets, near the shipyard that was currently building the new gate. It was the unofficial line in space, and, so far, both sides were respecting it. There was even talk of visits to each other’s planets in the coming weeks.
But still there was tension. Both sides had been at war for too long. It didn’t matter that they had a joint ancestry and had originated from the same planet. Too many lives had been lost, on both sides.
GAS looked like he was about to have a stroke. “And how would you know they’re cooperating, Stark? What information are you basing that on?”
“Nothing specific, sir, just a general observation. Forgive me. But may I ask what intelligence you have? How reliable is this?” He was careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Reliable,” GAS said. “But I can’t tell you where it came from. Don’t ask again.” He put his palms on the desk, clearly out of patience now. Mason wondered how he’d ever made it to the top of the ESC with that attitude. “Stark, you have an open invitation to the Rhadgast school. You are ordered to go there and enter the school as a student. Once there, you will report on everything you see with this.” He held up a small disk-shaped piece of black plastic. “This communicator is quantum-synced to the one I carry on my person at all times. It is completely untraceable. While there, you will investigate anything odd you come across. If you discover proof of a project or weapon that violates the treaty, you will report it at once.”
Mason couldn’t believe his luck. Come and find us, if you want to learn the truth about your parents, the Rhadgast had told him, pressing the purple gloves into Mason’s hand. I’ve found you, Mason thought now.
He didn’t ask what would happen if they were caught, or if the treaty crumbled while he was on Skars. He didn’t care. Or rather, he was too excited by the possibilities to really consider the risks. He was going no matter what, so the risks didn’t matter.
“Uh, sir?” Tom said.
GAS turned his dark gaze upon Tom.
“Why am I here?”
“Because you’re going with him,” Grand Admiral Shahbazian replied.
Chapter Four
Tom began to splutter something incoherent, but Shahbazian cut him off. “I’ve been in contact with the Tremist King himself. I expressed my concern about Mason going alone into a strange new world, and he conferred with the Rhadgast. A committee decided Mason is allowed to bring along one of the crew who helped save the Will. And I have picked you, Tom.”
Tom was suddenly a shade paler. “Why me? Why not Jeremy Cane? He’s a better fighter.”
Mason glanced at his friend. Tom wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge, but not much time had passed since the death of Tom’s mother, Captain Renner, at the hands of the Tremist. Tom would maintain peace with the Tremist, as was his duty, but to work side by side with them?
Shahbazian didn’t look thrilled that Tom had forgotten to use sir. “Because I don’t need a fighter, Cadet Renner. I need someone with guile and brains, someone who will stay cool behind enemy lines.”
Mason couldn’t tell if that was an insult to their friend Jeremy, who was one of the smartest and bravest cadets he knew. It better not have been.
“What about our studies?” Tom loved school almost as much as Stellan, and he planned to get perfect scores for the next six years. It would guarantee he graduated as an officer. Tom looked at Mason in a near panic. “What if we’re there for months? Or years! We won’t be able to graduate.”
Shahbazian actually grinned, or almost did: the corners of his mouth twitched in unison. “Son,” he said, in a different, gentler voice. “I am in charge of the whole show here, and I don’t intend to let this harm your future with the ESC. This is an incredible risk. You will be the first boots-on-the-ground soldiers since this whole thing started. I don’t want to send cadets to Skars. Of course I don’t. But this is our only option. And as the best the ESC has to offer, we’re going to take the risk.”
“They killed my mother, sir,” Tom said. Mason suspected this was the real sticking point, not some silly classes.
Shahbazian was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “I know, Thomas. But the two of you are going to do your duty, all personal feelings aside. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Mason and Tom replied together.
“Great,” Shahbazian said, leaning back in Headmaster Oleg’s chair. “I’m glad I have your approv—” The chair was ancient and creaky and almost slid out from under him. He slammed his hands down on the desk to steady himself, glaring at the boys, as if they were the cause. Mason snorted but somehow kept his face placid.
“Your ship leaves in thirty minutes,” Shahbazian said quickly. “Dismissed. I expect your first report this evening.”
Mason and Tom stood up together and walked for the door.
“Boys,” Shahbazian said.
They turned. Shahbazian tossed them each one of the black quantum communicators. Mason caught his, then immediately slid the disk into the secret compartment in the heel of his boot. Tom did the same.
“Good luck,” Shahbazian said. “And be careful.…”
* * *
“Tell me you’re not a little excited,” Mason said, once they were in the hallway. “Not even a tiny bit excited. I dare you.”
“Oh I’m excited, all right,” Tom said. “It’s been a dream my entire life to visit the Tremist homeworld with no backup and be expected to go to Rhadgast school. Mason, have you forgotten that one time lots and lots of Rhadgast tried to kill us? Wait, it was much more than one time.”
Mason hadn’t forgotten. He dreamed of their blank, featureless faces, which pulsed with violet light. The Rhadgast were once thought to be wizards of some kind. To this day, they were legendary among the ESC. Mason would never forget the first time he saw one inside the gravity-free bay aboard the Egypt. The Rhadgast had flown through the air like a shark swims through water, firing off electrical blasts from his gloves, his black robe lashing around him as if the fabric were alive.
The memory sent a chill down Mason’s spine, and for a moment Mason wondered if anyone would notify his sister, Lieutenant Commander Susan Stark, of his mission. He shook it off as their escort arrived.
The guard of six walked them to the shuttle bay, where they would take
a shuttle to one of the bigger ships in orbit. They were not permitted to visit their lockers or to speak to any students they passed in the hallway. Their absence would be noted, of course, but that wasn’t Mason’s problem. Oleg could always say the two boys had been expelled, or suspended temporarily, for as long as the mission required. Mason had the disciplinary actions to back it up. Or maybe they’d go a different route entirely and publicize the mission as another step toward lasting peace. Either way, it wasn’t Mason’s concern.
Five minutes later, they were strapped into a shuttle. Fifteen minutes later, they were in high orbit above Mars, docking at a country-class vessel (identical to the one Mason was briefly captain of) named the Bolivia. Thirty minutes later they were in the new Earthspace, a quarter of the way across the galaxy. An hour after leaving Headmaster Oleg’s office, they were aboard one of the Bolivia’s shuttles, heading for the Will. Like Olympus, the Will was a ring-shaped tube. But unlike the Olympus, it had many rings inside one another. At the very center, inside the smallest ring, was a pod containing an artificial forest that Mason assumed was like the surface of Skars. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, he thought.
The crew of Mason’s shuttle was two members of the ESC intelligence sector. But they weren’t normal intelligence analysts or number crunchers. These were true spies, known as Reynolds, named for the famous captain Joshua Reynolds. Like the Tremist, Reynolds always wore masks to conceal their identities. Their masks were featureless except for the two circular lenses over their eyes, which glowed softly with pinkish light.
They didn’t speak to either cadet for the entire trip from the Bolivia to the Will. The shuttle coasted toward the Will slowly, giving the Tremist time to scan the ship and make sure it wasn’t packed with explosives. The Will was still undergoing repairs from its encounter with the Fangborn ship, though the job was nearly finished. Only a few sections were open to space, the levels exposed, tiny worker pods crawling all over them like ants repairing a hive.
Finally, the shuttle connected to the Will with a bang and a hiss as the air pressure on both sides equalized. The door at the rear of the shuttle slid open, revealing a group of four Rhadgast.