by Matt Roberts
Keeping his head down, Owyn swiftly made his way to the uppermost floor of the station where Operations was located. Operations was a large, open room with dozens of computer consoles lining the walls – although, again, it seemed ISO were severely undermanned to ever make use of them all. In the centre was the IC, the Intelligence Centre; a tall round table with a glass top and a holographic image of Altaris projected a few inches above it. Despite its unassuming looks, it was the most important piece of technology that belonged to ISO, as within its circuits resided their collected intelligence, their identities and their mission data. Sully had designed the system to be impossible to hack – such was the delicacy of its contents. In doing so he’d needed to devise a way to make it entirely separate from every other computer system in existence, something that was almost unimaginable in the modern age.
From Operations led a flight of metal steps up to Ambrose’ quarters. Owyn climbed them as quietly as he could, but thanks to the emptiness of the room even the softest step generated an almighty clang. As he neared the door it slid aside and he was prompted to enter. He stepped through and it closed behind him. He was alone.
This was the first time he had ever found himself in here without being under Ambrose’ strict supervision, so he took his chance to look around. On one wall of the room was the station’s control hub – currently locked behind a whole sequence of passwords and other security measures – where Ambrose had access to cameras, communication and every other individual system, all of which could be displayed on a holographic screen which covered almost the entire wall.
As well as the leader of Alpha team, Lieutenant Ambrose was the Commanding Officer of ISO. He was the most experienced soldier of any of them, having fought on Earth – both in and outside the US – for more than a decade before leaving for Altaris. He wasn’t one to boast about his former glories, although imagining the things he might have seen and done in all those years, Owyn doubted there was an awful lot to brag about. Still, it meant that the rest of ISO knew even less about their leader than they did about each other. That applied even to Owyn, who shared the closest relationship with the Lieutenant of all of them – if, in those circumstances, it could be described as a relationship at all.
When Ambrose had first set about building ISO from the ground up he’d handpicked Owyn to be his first Operative, and ever since then he’d acted like a mentor, paying closer attention to his development on the field than any of the other personnel. Now, five years down the line from when Owyn was first selected, Ambrose was giving him a shot at a promotion to First Officer. Owyn wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve any of it but, given all of that, he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t been given even a peek behind the veil – not even a first name. Of course, secrecy was something the organisation was built on, but it did seem strange – not that he’d say so out loud.
On the opposite side of the room was a full wall window which gave a breath-taking view of the planet below. Owyn stepped over and put his hands to the glass, gazing down onto the surface. Darkness shrouded much of it, but gleaming specks of light pockmarked the land where Altaris’ cities lay. As of yet the planet had nothing outside of its fifteen cities scattered about the globe, and so the lights were well separated and identical – all except for one.
The brightest of the lights was Kyvos, Altaris’ largest city and the culmination of all of the work that had gone into perfecting human civilisation. Kyvos was home to the Department of Planetary Defence (the DPD), the main body of Altaris’ military and its most powerful organisation. The city was still young and so Owyn had never seen it for himself, even though it was from there that he ultimately received his orders. There were plenty of images and videos, of course, but Owyn chose to leave it to his imagination, not wanting to take away from his eventual visit, whenever that might be. Unfortunately, ISO personnel were forbidden to leave the station other than on active duty, so there was no telling if that day would ever come.
As Owyn stood gawping at the view he heard the door open behind him. He instinctively spun around, placing one hand over the other behind his back and standing straight.
Lieutenant Ambrose had the look of a veteran, through and through. Sprouts of grey were beginning to show in his hair and stubble of a beard, and the jagged white scar that ran down the length of his face was surrounded by dry, withering skin.
He was the kind of soldier who never left the battlefield; even here he had his rifle slung over his back and a sidearm strapped to either thigh. All of his weaponry was age old. His rifle was an M4 Carbine, not seen in service use since the early 2020s, and as a result it was visibly battered and beaten through the years of tireless service it had endured.
The Lieutenant said nothing at first. He simply walked over to the window and stood a few feet across from Owyn, silently looking out. After a few seconds he spoke. “Why are you here, Owyn?” he asked.
“Excuse me, sir?” Owyn replied, confused by the question.
“Why did you leave Earth and join ISO?” Ambrose clarified.
Still, however, Owyn wasn’t quite sure what he was asking. “It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss out on,” he answered nonetheless.
“Why? Why abandon everything you fought for on Earth and come here? You weren’t like most soldiers. You weren’t fighting to survive. You could have stayed far away from that war without a mark on your conscience. You fought for a reason. Why give up?”
Owyn swallowed nervously. “There wasn’t anything left to fight for,” he said. “We weren’t making a difference.”
“That wasn’t what the people were made to believe. XION’s super soldiers had fought the rebels back. The war was almost over.”
A lump rose in Owyn’s throat and he gritted his teeth. “All we did was drive them underground.” He shrugged. “If you put enough of their heads on spikes then of course they’re going to run, but we were never going to win. We were only making the situation worse.”
Ambrose took a brief moment to think and then continued his questioning. “What about your family? They lived in the forests in Ontario when you were born, yes?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then why did you join the war? There was no conflict there. You had a home, food, water, family. Not many people could say that. Why would you ever leave that behind?”
“My parents died before I was 17 and after that I only had my brother. We were both fit to fight and didn’t want to stand by doing nothing.” He shrugged again. “We were naïve. We thought we could help fix everything and we thought that was what the US were trying to do.”
“But it wasn’t?”
Owyn shuffled and looked down at his feet. “I don’t know. Maybe that was what they were trying to do, but they were never going to succeed. It was impossible.”
“Then why follow them here? If they couldn’t succeed on Earth, what more could they do here? You could have just turned your back – gone home – but you chose this. Now you’re as far from home as you could ever be.”
He shook his head and repeated himself. “I don’t know.”
He expected for Ambrose to dig deeper, to try to get something meaningful from him, but instead he turned away from the window and shifted his focus. “You did well today, Carter.”
Confusion continued to grow in Owyn’s mind. He was expecting an onslaught, not a congratulation. “Thank you, sir,” he said with uncertainty.
“That said…” There it was. He knew the praise couldn’t last long. “Entering from the side of the building left a trace we’d rather not have to deal with. Your relationship with Shaw also had a negative impact on both your focus and that of the rest of the team.” Owyn braced himself. “However.” Another change of tune? That was unheard of. “You coped well with every situation and you got the job done. That’s all I can ask of a team leader.”
Owyn’s hopes soared. Somehow he’d done it. “Sir?” he asked expectantly. “Does that mean—” He hesitated.
Ambrose paused for a moment. He didn’t hint at anything with his expression, but something about his drawn out breath didn’t bode well. “Unfortunately not, no.” Owyn was abruptly dragged down. “I wasn’t simply testing your credentials as a leader. I already knew you were perfectly capable. You proved that during your training. I wasn’t just looking to promote you to First Officer, I was testing whether you could act as my replacement.”
Owyn’s despair switched focus in a flash. “Your replacement?” He abandoned the formalities, letting his tone slip. “Why?”
“I’ve been given a temporary assignment on the surface. I’m to leave the station in 48 hours. A standing officer will be assigned to command in my stead.”
He said ‘temporary’ but that was little consolation. Ambrose never liked to be ambiguous. Ambiguity from him didn’t instil confidence. “Why the hell would you be assigned away from ISO?” Owyn protested.
“This isn’t a matter of choice, Owyn.” His voice raised sharply in a manner that Owyn had scarcely heard before. “I have my orders. You have yours. Neither of our opinions have a part to play. Am I clear?”
Owyn had stepped out of line, and he knew it. Quietly he backed down.
“Get some rest,” Ambrose said. “There’s one more mission I need to get done before I leave. Briefing’s at 0800.”
Owyn nodded, lacking conviction. “Yes sir,” he answered before making his way to the door.
“Owyn.” Ambrose stopped him. “Don’t lose focus. The mission is the priority.” Those were five words he had repeated so many times that he himself must have been sick of hearing them, but Owyn knew in this situation to take them as a warning. Ambrose expected not to be disappointed.
After waiting for the door to close behind him, Owyn briskly descended the steps, slid down the corridor and whimsically swung a leg at the wall in frustration.
Owyn’s mind wasn’t about to be put at ease, even as he lay quietly in the comfort of his quarters. After more than hour of trying in vain to force himself to sleep, he dragged himself out from beneath the sheets and pressed his cheek up against the ice cold glass of the solitary porthole window. Beyond the glass extended the infinite expanse of space, twinkling with thousands of distant stars and galaxies.
He pulled over a chair and slumped into the fabric. His head was throbbing with question after question replaying over and over without reprieve. Droplets of sweat were rolling down his back, adding to his discomfort. Perhaps he was overreacting; the change was only temporary after all. He shouldn’t be affected. The only times he and Ambrose had any interaction these days was on the field and during briefing or debriefing. What did it matter if someone else took his place? He’d just be taking orders either way. Still, whatever he told himself, he had to admit that he felt more comfortable with Ambrose on the station, even with minimal interaction. He sighed. The best thing he could do was distract his thoughts.
If he could believe any of the bullshit that came out of Sully’s mouth then he could see Earth’s sun from here; the brightest star on the right from where he was sat. He still found it impossible to believe that it had taken just three years in space for it to look no more special than any other star in the night sky. That time had gone by in a flash since he’d spent the entirety of it training in an isolated section of the ship along with the other members of ISO. One moment he was a couple of hundred miles from home, the next he was 23 light-years away. It was something that never got easier for him to get his head around.
Usually he did whatever he could to block out all thoughts of home. He didn’t want to remember it because he was scared he’d start to miss it. There was no way back. Never. He’d told himself a thousand times that there was nothing for him there anymore, and there were far too many bad memories in that place for him to ever want to see it again, but still the fear lingered. It was fourteen years since he last set foot inside that house yet in all the time since he’d never felt at home. He lifted his knees up to his chest and curled up into a skewed, makeshift ball and closed his eyes.
By the time Owyn arrived at Operations, Shaw and Sully had already locked horns. Shaw and O’Brien were stood either side of the IC, while Sully was pacing rapidly back and forth across the floor.
“For fuck’s sake, Sullivan,” Shaw yelled as his irritation boiled over.
Shaw was a fearsome figure. His monstrous size dwarfed Sully’s tiny stature and as he clenched his fists veins protruded from every part of his body, reaching maximum concentration around his tree trunk of a neck.
Sully tried not to react, but fear drove him to quicken his pace slightly. “Sullivan!” Shaw screamed, slamming his fist down on the edge of the table.
Sully stopped dead and looked him straight in the eyes. Silence fell. He flicked his gaze between Shaw’s fist and his fiery stare.
“Get out on the wrong side of bed today, Shaw?” Owyn’s voice split the tension and disrupted Shaw’s focus, much to his annoyance.
“Carter. It’s nice to see your talk with Ambrose wasn’t enough motivation for you to get your ass here on time for once,” Shaw remarked, at least glad to have someone else to turn his abuse to.
“I like to be consistent,” Owyn responded.
“Any idea what the mission is?” O’Brien asked. “Ambrose didn’t give us much with the mission file.” She had a brown paper file in her hand. That meant that this mission was especially classified. Ambrose only put pen to paper when he really didn’t want any information floating around. Sully assured him that the IC was secure – the whole of ISO depended on that fact – but he wasn’t to be convinced.
“Not a clue. It wouldn’t be Ambrose if he didn’t keep things close to his chest.” Owyn was casual in his reply in spite of his suddenly elevated heart rate.
“We’re launching in 30, so he’s in a rush to get it done whatever it is.”
Owyn raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been given the impression that this mission was anything bigger than Ambrose’ last, so why the file; why the hurry? Moreover, 0800 had been and gone. Ambrose was never late.
Thunderous footsteps echoed down the hallway and were quickly followed by Ambrose marching briskly into the room. He launched a tiny computer chip in Sully’s direction and after a momentary fumble and a skipped heartbeat he collected it.
“We need eyes on those co-ordinates, Sullivan. Make it quick,” the Lieutenant ordered.
Needing no extra encouragement, Sully promptly inserted the chip into the IC’s access pad, replacing the image of Altaris above the table with the model of an area of empty desert plains.
“What are we looking at?” O’Brien queried. There didn’t look to be anything to see.
Ambrose was circling the table, erratically switching left and right. “Can you clear interference?”
“On it,” Sully answered, and in a matter of seconds the complete image materialised.
Upon the plain appeared a dozen or so silver structures, all surrounded by a high wall. There was a watchtower on the east side and another directly opposite it on the west, both extending equally high above the walls.
“A military installation?” O’Brien asked curiously.
“A rebel base on the outskirts of the Tajari desert,” Ambrose clarified, eventually standing still as his anxiety eased.
Owyn joined the discussion. “Rebel? Since when have we had rebels to deal with?”
“They’ve been popping up for the last few months, but until now they’ve been easy to deal with and keep quiet about. This is the first significant base we’ve come across.”
It was a worrying development. This was the first mention of an uprising on Altaris, and Owyn couldn’t help but draw parallels to the events on Earth.
“What are we supposed to do about it? We don’t have the men to go anywhere near that place.” Shaw was quick to file an objection.
“This facility is producing high impact weapons. We need to take it down quickly. There isn’t time to debate it.” Ambrose was firm, but fail
ed to discourage further argument from Shaw.
“Judging by the size of the base they must have what, a hundred personnel? At least. And I’m willing to bet that if they do have weapons then they aren’t going to be sat on display ready for us to whisk away. This is the DPD’s problem. Not ours.” Shaw had never been too fond of the DPD, as he’d made clear on many occasions. There didn’t seem to be much reason behind it, but it wouldn’t be unlike him to hold a grudge without justification.
“I’m guessing most of the weapons facility is underground,” O’Brien said.
“Most probably,” Ambrose confirmed.
“One entry?”
Ambrose nodded.
“Are we forgetting where this place is?” Sully interrupted. “Tajari is a no-fly-zone. Those sandstorms mean the sky above the desert is littered with dust and sand particles. Our jets aren’t getting close to that compound without having their engines torn up, so I hope you’ve got a good idea of how we’re getting there.”
“We’ll only be flying along the outskirts,” Ambrose assured. “We may sustain a little damage but not enough to endanger the mission.”
“Do you know how those engines work?” The question was rhetorical, of course. “It only takes a dozen particles to rip through the filter and the Fourth of July will be coming early this year. It’s not going to work.”
“It isn’t your call, Sullivan.” Ambrose’ firm, authoritative tone bubbled to the surface. “Whatever the risks, we have to get this mission done.”
“With respect, sir, we aren’t going to be able to do anything about those weapons if we go down out there.”
Owyn could see Ambrose’ temper boiling. It was unusual to see, but Owyn understood the circumstances better than the others. “Sully!” he snapped. Sully turned to face him, initially shocked that Owyn hadn’t taken his side but quickly succumbing to his glare and keeping his mouth shut.
A tense silence filled the room. All five stood like statues, waiting for someone else to make the next move.