by R. E. Weber
As Theo lay in the darkness, his mind continued to race. Logic told him that there was no such things as ghosts, so the feeling that Mulha Ran had been with him had to mean something else. Had something from the depths of his unconscious mind spoken to him?
Focusing on Mulha Ran, he thought about all the things that had happened and everything he had learnt from him. The Dread Lord, the myth of the three heavens and the mesmerising image of a Star Wraith all drifted in and out of his mind, but none of it felt right. Somehow, he knew that it wasn’t about facts and figures but something else. Then he considered what else Mulha Ran had said to him. He remembered being told to seek his own answers, for everything and to ask his own questions, as much to himself as to others. But there’d been something else as well – something along similar lines but different. Theo held his head in his hands as a million thoughts raced in and out of his mind. Then it hit him. Be certain that you are asking the right questions.
Positive he was close to an answer, he continued to replay the sequence of events of his encounter with Mulha Ran through his mind, determined to remember all the questions he had asked him. As he worked through the timeline as best he could remember, he recalled the moment when Mulha Ran had appeared beside him on the platform above the landing pad, at the bottom of the exit tunnel. He remembered asking Mulha Ran how the Metah Dah had stayed hidden from the Affinity for so long, and the reply had been ‘The answer to this question is within your grasp, should you be willing to challenge your beliefs.’ He’d been irritated at the time that the answer had been so cryptic, but what he hadn’t considered was whether the question was itself flawed. Then as he focused on that moment, the realisation hit him like a thunderbolt.
When he had asked how the Metah Dah had remained hidden from the Affinity for so long, that had been the wrong question. If the H’th’hka had detected them, then so had the Affinity. So the right question would have been, why had the Affinity ignored the Metah Dah? Like his grandfather leaving on the blindfold when he didn’t need to, the Affinity had chosen to ignore their existence. For some reason, they were not pursuing the Metah Dah, even though they knew where they were. They had deliberately blindfolded themselves.
Theo sat up once more and stared into the dark room, his heart thumping like a jack hammer. Despite the fact that he had never believed in such things, his dreams had seemingly spoken to him. The Affinity’s inability to capture the Metah Dah was a deception. They were lying. It was the only logical conclusion.
*
As wave after wave of dizziness coursed through him, Nalhas Mah fell to the hard metallic floor of the tiny vessel, his hands splayed out on either side to steady himself. Following the explosion of the attack cruiser and the sudden disconnection of the neural link, the wave of dizzying sensations had been too much to bear, almost completely destroying his sense of balance. However, he knew from experience that the disorientation would soon vanish. He had become accustomed to it.
Once his balance had returned, he stood up and stared at the tactical display in front of him, watching as the remainder of the fleet regrouped around the disabled vessel. He had done his best against the attack fleet of five cruisers, but the suddenness of their appearance, seemingly from nowhere, had given the commander no time to prepare for battle. Had he detected their approach earlier, he knew that he would have destroyed every vessel easily.
However, the commander was not angry with his lack of readiness for the conflict. What had angered him most was the betrayal. Despite his unswerving loyalty to the Shadow Fleet – which he had demonstrated first with the requisition of the weapon and then with the destruction of the Star Agency outpost – his contact had deceived him. He had been instructed to wait at the outer edge of the solar system for the arrival of the fleet, which would then escort him to their hidden base of operations. Once there, the devastating weapon would be reverse engineered so that the technology could be installed onto every vessel in the fleet – a fleet he would one day command into battle, or so he had been told. But it had all been a lie. The Shadow Fleet did not exist. Instead, the hidden powers that had controlled him had used him to achieve their own secret goals. He had been used and then discarded without a second thought.
Yet cautiousness had always been on his side – a trait that had saved his life many times. Although he’d had no reason to doubt his contact’s sincerity at the time, experience had taught Nalhas Mah never to present himself openly into an unknown situation. So he had remote piloted the attack cruiser via a neural link from the safety of a small escape craft, hidden within the cave system of a nearby asteroid, only ready to show himself once he was certain of the intentions of the approaching fleet. To his relief, his instincts had been correct once more. He had survived.
As he continued to watch the tactical display, the two remaining attack cruisers, having rescued all survivors from the third stricken vessel, left the vicinity of the battle and headed back towards the quantum portal in the inner solar system. Within minutes, they were out of sensor range. Surprised that the fleet had not taken the time to thoroughly check the vicinity for enemy survivors – perhaps due to the inexperience of its commander – Nalhas Mah powered up the tiny escape vessel’s primary systems, ignited its engines and guided it slowly through the network of caverns in the asteroid and out into open space.
He parked the vessel several hotah above the asteroid and initiated a full tactical scan of the surrounding space to ensure that no drones or probes were in the area, scanning for his presence. Then he plotted a slow burn trajectory towards the quantum portal, making sure that he remained outside the sensor range of the departing fleet. Where he might head upon reaching the quantum portal, he hadn’t yet decided. However, he knew that a recovery team would soon be in the vicinity to either tow the damaged cruiser to safety or to destroy it if it was unsalvageable. So he needed to be out of the vicinity within the next few hours.
Once he had initiated the automatic pilot, he sat back and closed his eyes, his brilliant tactical mind weighing up every option. He could not return to the Affinity Navy because he had been deemed a traitor, having stolen a top-secret military weapon and then used it aggressively against the Affinity. Justice would be swift and brutal if he were to hand himself over to the authorities. Nor could he get a message to his family to let them know he was safe and well because that would result in a task force being sent to track him down to capture or kill him. And in any case, his family had no doubt disowned him due to his traitorous behaviour. Nor could he contact any of the Affinity member species to request asylum. They would all refuse and deport him to Polisium. He had to remain, to all intents and purposes, dead, at least for the time being. A ghost.
His vessel had enough supplies to last him several days, which would give him time to reach a habitable world – a world not monitored by the Affinity. Once there, he could replenish his supplies and remain hidden until he had planned his next move, in detail. Firstly, he had to locate allies – to seek out those who would stand beside him. Allies were going to be difficult to come by, so he would have to consider alliances with non-Affinity worlds, perhaps even those seen as enemies; although the thought sickened him, he knew it was the only way.
Once his allies had been gathered together, they would scour space to seek out technology and resources to build an attack fleet, which would become the most lethal fighting force in history. A real shadow fleet. Then he would lead them into battle against those who had betrayed him and left him for dead. Like an avenging spirit, back from the dead, he would cut a swath of vengeance through the Galaxy, destroying all who stood in his way. The betrayal of those who had abandoned him would be their greatest mistake – and their last.
28 – Executive Request
‘Operative Odul,’ growled Commander Haarrnn Toh, ‘I appreciate your prompt response to our recall notice at such an inconvenient time.’
‘I am, as always, at your disposal,’ came the reply.
‘I am gratifi
ed to hear that. If I may proceed without delay, we have some additional duties for you to undertake. The duties concern Operative Logan.’
‘Of course, Commander. I will provide him with whatever assistance he may need to aid in his recovery, without of course revealing…’
‘No,’ interrupted the commander, ‘you…misunderstand me. He does not require your assistance. Instead, I require you to monitor him.’
‘Monitor him? May I ask how and for what purpose?’
‘As per your briefing, you will be aware that Operative Logan has recently returned from a mission during which he encountered Paranoemenos and his forces.’
‘Yes, I’ve read the briefing of the encounter thoroughly. However, I saw nothing of concern in relation to his behaviour.’
‘The briefing was, in the main, factual. It was deliberately worded in order to disguise my concerns, which I do not wish to be documented at this time.’
‘I understand. Can you specify the type of activities I would be required to monitor?’
‘I would like you to gauge his sympathies towards our enemy and their beliefs.’
‘You believe that his loyalty to the Affinity is open to question?’
‘Without a doubt, his loyalties are now subject to change. Paranoemenos is a highly persuasive individual, and we believe that he may have influenced Operative Logan more acutely than expected. We have noted behaviour that might be consistent with sympathy for certain aspects of their cause.’
‘May I speak candidly, Commander?’
‘Always.’
‘I have carefully observed Operative Logan since his return to Polisium. I have seen nothing that concerns me other than the obvious trauma the encounter has inflicted upon him. Operative Logan is a being of good character, and I believe it is highly unlikely that his loyalties would change so easily.’
‘Since you are not privy to all intelligence on the matter, I would not expect you to have noticed an appreciable change of behaviour. The signs that I have detected are subtle but undeniable. They have been confirmed by the Polisium Prime hyper-mind as worthy of concern.’
‘Would not another operative be more suited to the task in hand?’
‘No. I believe that you are best placed to carry out these duties.’
‘Is this an order?’
‘No, this is an executive request.’
‘So I retain the right of refusal?’
The commander stared silently at the operative, his swollen, jet black eyes rock-steady and unblinking. Then he reared up onto his hind legs and extended his spine until their heads were level. The tentacles around his mouth were rigid and dripping with a mucus-like substance.
‘Operative Odul. I have observed your progression through our accelerated training program with satisfaction. You have met and in many cases exceeded our expectations. It would be… unfortunate if you were to fall short and we were to deem you unsuitable for your chosen speciality. I believe that more trivial duties would be unlikely to hold your attention.’
The operative paused for a moment and then took a deep breath.
‘I understand and I will of course comply.’
‘I am gratified to hear this. I assume I do not need to remind you that an executive request should be discussed with no one other than myself. This includes First Mentor. No official record of this request exists on the Star Agency central database and nor should it. Any recorded references should also be purged from your companion immediately.’
‘Naturally, I will comply with protocol, as required.’
‘Wherever possible, any significant behaviour should be reported to myself without delay. Do not discount any signs of errant behaviour however subtle or insignificant you might deem them.’
‘I understand, Commander. Do you require anything further?’
‘At this time, no. However, I cannot discount the possibility that we might require you to engage in more direct action in the future.’
Without another word, the operative dipped his head before turning and leaving the room.
*
With sweat beading on his forehead, Abubakar entered his quarters, stumbled towards the far wall and activated the context point to open the doorway to his toilet. His head still spinning, he staggered through, placed his hands on the seat and vomited violently into the hole, bringing up the entire contents of his stomach. And for several more minutes, he continued to lean over the hole while his stomach periodically convulsed, pushing digestive juices up his throat and into his mouth.
Once he was certain that there was nothing left to bring up, he spat the remaining fluid from his mouth and flushed away the remains of Weng’s hotdog supper. Then he washed his face and hands before proceeding towards his bed. Grabbing a bottle of water from his bedside table, he gulped down several mouthfuls, and as the cold liquid poured into his now empty stomach, the burning sensation caused by his digestive juices scouring his throat eased a little.
Still feeling unwell, he flopped onto his bed, switched off the lights and lay spread-eagled on top of his bed covers, exhausted from his sudden and unexpected bout of nausea. He knew that he had no choice but to carry out the request that had been placed before him, but that didn’t make it any less sickening. He had been told to spy on one of his best friends. And no amount of duty or protocol could suppress his feeling of utter revulsion for what he now had to do.
Epilogue
You will know where. As Jules sat on a bench, looking down over Greenwich Park, across the River Thames and towards the skyscrapers in the financial heart of London, those four simple words tortured her repeatedly. For weeks, she had waited patiently for word that the mysterious Frank was ready to meet with her and tell her everything that he knew. But as the days had drifted by without a response, her faith that he truly knew anything at all had slowly diminished until she had been on the verge of writing him off completely. Then, on the very day that she had begun drafting an angry email telling him that he was just a sick weirdo, who enjoyed teasing vulnerable people, desperate for information on their missing loved ones, a short and casual email had popped into her inbox, taking her completely by surprise:
Hi, Kings, J.
I am in town this week. Do you want to meet? Are you free on Saturday, around 2pm?
If so, meet me in town. You will know where.
Frank
Happy that he’d finally replied, Jules had confirmed the meeting without hesitation. Then, three days later, she had made her way into London, located a bench at the top of Greenwich Park, just outside the world-famous observatory, and parked herself there, waiting nervously for somebody who may or may not be trustworthy – although her instincts told her that he was – to finally answer the question that had frustrated her for so long. Where was Theo? Whether she had come to the right place for the meeting, Jules wasn’t sure. However, it was the only location that they clearly both knew of – by virtue of some clever detective work on a photograph that Frank had sent her – so it had to be right. Or so she hoped.
But although she had so longed for answers, now that they might be imminent, she wasn’t truly sure if it was right to know. If Theo’s whereabouts were as cloak and dagger as their stilted online conversations had suggested, was it really wise for her to finally know? Was it actually safe?
A sudden breeze swept up from behind and then a swirl of red and gold autumn leaves skittered around her before dropping suddenly to the ground, almost as if the wind had been switched off. Startled, Jules stood up, her heart beating fast, and turned to look at the person who she somehow knew was standing behind her, even though she had neither seen nor heard anybody approaching.
‘Julia?’ said a heavy Spanish accent.
Placing her hand above her eyes to block out the golden autumn sunshine, Jules squinted back at the figure staring down at her from the grass bank, several metres away.
‘Frank?’
Smiling, the figure walked down the bank and made his way around to the front
of the bench.
‘Francisco, actually,’ he replied.
Jules stared back at the young man in front of her. Although his round face and dimpled cheeks looked a little comical somehow, his wavy black hair and deep brown eyes were warm and reassuring. He was more handsome in real life than in his photograph, as well as a little older – she guessed he was perhaps sixteen or seventeen now.
Jules held out her hand nervously, ‘Julie Kingsley.’
‘Francisco Torres,’ he said, squeezing her hand gently but firmly.
‘So how are we going to do this?’
‘We will walk, yes?’
‘Yes, we’ll go for a walk – somewhere more private. Shall I lead the way?’
Francisco smiled. ‘Yes, Julia, lead the way.’
There was something about the way he said Julia, pronouncing the J like an H, which made her stomach flip over.
They headed away from the bench outside the observatory and down a gentle grassy slope into a park area dotted with a variety of trees, many of which were rich with autumn colour, much to her delight – autumn being her favourite time of year. Ahead of them, around most of the trees, a variety of people, mostly couples, were sat, either on the bare grass or on towels.
As they made their way down the slope, Jules accidentally stepped into a small indentation in the ground, stumbled and almost fell over forward. But somehow, almost magically, a large hand appeared under her left shoulder, steadying her.
‘Are you OK, Julia?’
Again, her heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t just handsome but a gentleman too.
‘Y… yeah, I’m fine,’ she replied nervously. ‘Thanks.’