by TR Cameron
"I’m not going to tell you all the things you already know about a commander's duty to the ship and crew, my boy. What I will tell you is this, I’ve had more than one conversation with Kate about our adventure at the colony, and she would’ve made exactly the same decisions you did. If anything, she would’ve left sooner."
Cross responded with a choked laugh. "That does sound like her."
"Did you know I was married once?"
The non-sequitur jarred Cross from where he was trapped in his own thoughts, and he looked over at the older man. Jannik's face showed no particular angst over the statement he’d just made, even though it seemed like a deeply held secret. "No, I don't believe you've ever mentioned a partner."
"She's a wonderful girl, my Evelyn." Jannik took a sip of his tea, then reached down to the leg pouch designed for tools and instruments and withdrew his ever-present flask. He added a dollop of whiskey to each of their cups, not a full measure but just enough to flavor it. Then he restored the container to its resting place.
"I met Evelyn during our rotations. We were both on the track for chief engineer, and that position requires time spent on each of the ship classes used by the Navy. We were on a cruiser if I remember correctly." Jannik scratched his beard and took a sip, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Anyway, we knew we had something from the first moment we met. She's hardly anything like me, but we fit together somehow. We had a good couple of years—got hitched and threw a great party, and loved our lives together. Inevitably, the time came where we had to choose our paths forward. Would one of us abandon the path of chief engineer, knowing it was a duty we both wanted, and a duty that the Navy needed from us?" He looked up at Cross with a glint in his eye. "As you’re no doubt aware, it's almost impossible to find a good chief. We’re the most vital member of the ship's crew."
Cross replied with a deadpan, "Of course, Jannik. Everyone knows this."
With a satisfied nod, Jannik continued, "We both felt that our lives demanded more of us than we could offer if we were focused on one another instead of on our ships and our sailors. So, after our rotations ended, we applied for and received separate postings. We ended the marriage, so as to not limit one another when we weren't together."
"But you still love her?"
"Aye, my boy, that I do. More than anyone I’ve encountered in the many years since."
"Where is she now?"
"She’s on one of our older colonies, as the installation engineer. She was injured in a battle, and can no longer work in space. In fact, she must be sedated in order to travel on a ship at all. Something about her inner ear."
Cross searched Jannik's face and found confirmation that the chief had researched her injury down to the smallest detail. He nodded. "So why don't you join her, instead of risking your life?"
"Now, that’s the question, isn't it? Each of us has a to find our own answer to the balance between duty and desire. To put it as simply as I can, I don't feel my tasks for the Navy are finished. Although," he looked around at the bulkheads, which were as far from shiny and new as Jannik himself was, "after this particular adventure with the birds, it might be time to call it even and retire."
"I can't see you on a colony."
Jannik scoffed. "There's always something to fix on a colony. And there’d be enough room to build a proper distillery." The two laughed together.
"Ultimately, Cross, I know that I belong in space still. I feel it throughout my being. When that’s no longer true, I’ll know it, just as I know now that it isn’t time."
Cross sighed. "So, what you're saying is that Kate is an explorer, and nothing I can do will change that. So, I’d better get used to the idea. That about sum it up?"
Jannik laughed. "Every day, you’re a little smarter, Cross."
"Thanks for the tea," he replied, and stood to leave.
"It's okay to dislike the choice, my boy. But if you're holding on to guilt, let it go."
Cross waved over his shoulder as he walked away.
As he arrived at the bridge, he gestured for Lieutenant Commander Alan Jacobs to stay in the captain's chair, and instead moved to an empty station along the side. Calling up a series of commands, he accessed the Washington's inventory of communication drones. Some quick reprogramming turned one into a device that would sense the transponders on ships entering the sector. And upon detecting the Pandora's, it would send a coded message to her.
"Kate," it read, "we’ve delayed as long as possible. We’re headed to our ordered destination. If you get this, you know where to meet us. I came back to you on Hemnui. Now it's your turn. See you soon."
He finished programming the device and launched it into space, where it would hang dormant awaiting the Pandora. A fitting metaphor, Cross thought, as he locked the worried part of his psyche into the dark box he kept for that purpose.
He stood and accepted command from Jacobs. "Helm, are we ready to tunnel to Starbase 4?"
"Aye, Commander."
"All right. Let's do it. Execute."
The Washington barreled into tunnel space, leaving only a hopeful beacon behind to suggest they were ever there at all.
Chapter Nine
The summons took longer than expected to arrive, but when it did, it was impressive. His majordomo entered his office and announced, "Hierarch, a contingent of palace guards has arrived to escort you to an audience with the emperor."
Kraada raised an eyebrow at the man. "How many in a contingent?"
"Eight, Hierarch."
He set his writing implements aside carefully, then stood and smoothed his robes. "A little more impressive than expected, but no matter. Send my seneschal in."
With a nod and a bow, the majordomo left. Kraada motioned to his protector, who’d hidden in the shadows behind the open door. They were joined by the seneschal almost instantly, and the three entered a small office attached to Kraada's chambers that had been converted into an arming room. They helped him into his light armor, and then into his full regalia, which hid it nicely. It also hid the two holdout blades cleverly tucked into the folds of fabric where casual inspection wouldn’t detect them, and where even a thorough inspection might miss them. He waited while his seneschal and protector donned their own armor and secreted weapons, and then led them from the room, into the custody of the emperor's guard.
They stepped from the opulent vehicle the emperor had sent to carry them to the palace, and found the walkway leading to the entrance lined with guards. As they walked through the corridor of flesh, his seneschal mumbled, "Impressive display."
"There was no question about the emperor's need to respond. I will say, I guess dear Enjaaran must be more threatened than I expected."
The wide doors opened ahead of them, and a sapphire carpet now ran the length of the entryway leading to the throne room.
"Subtle," observed Variin in a condescending growl.
"Indeed, our emperor is the very picture of subtlety."
The blue carpet joined the blue stone of the throne room, as they continued their long walk into the presence of Enjaaran Velt, Emperor of all Xroesha. As they drew nearer, a brace of guards stood before them, physically denying their approach to the dais. The emperor's own seneschal bellowed, and his voice filled every part of the space that wasn’t already occupied by the hundreds of citizens, officers, and bureaucrats packed in to witness the event. "Hierarch Kraada Tak, you are summoned to account for your failures."
Kraada's spine snapped straighter, and his eyes narrowed in anger. His gaze failed to penetrate the sleepy, half-lidded expression of the emperor. The seneschal continued speaking, but in the blue haze that washed over his vision and the high buzzing that filled his ears, Kraada was sure he heard only every third word at best. He forced himself to refocus.
"Hierarch Kraada Tak, you have lost the emperor's confidence as the leader of the church of Xroesha. As the voice of the church, you’ve led us into a war with these humans that you contend is mandated by the gods. I
f that’s so, why aren’t our efforts more successful?" The emperor's seneschal was enjoying his time in the spotlight, making grand gestures to emphasize words. His performance resonated with the audience, judging by their whispers and movements.
"You speak of the need for unity, yet offer none. You neglect your duties to your subordinate churches, except when it serves your own personal needs." Kraada was impressed at that charge. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, though certainly out of context, and was a masterful dig at his meeting with Indraat.
"Further, you have jeopardized the gods' support of our war by evading one of the prime tenents of the Dhadas."
Kraada's teeth locked together as he forced himself to stillness. Word of his reinterpretation of the forces to allocate per battle shouldn’t have reached the emperor. It was a closely held order, known only to his highest servants in the cathedral and to the commanders in the field. The latter couldn’t have communicated it back to the emperor without detection, and the religious officers on each ship were vigilant in watching for such things.
He waited, to see if the worm at the emperor's side was finished speaking.
"The emperor has also lost confidence in you as a military leader, Hierarch Kraada Tak." The seneschal stepped forward to the edge of the dais as if to bring the charges closer to Kraada. "We face a less advanced race. We outnumber them significantly. But your forces have failed to eliminate them, despite your promises to the contrary. Perhaps the emperor was misled when he agreed to your request to invest the position of hierarch with both military and religious authority?"
The question hung in the room, and Kraada carefully didn’t twitch toward the weapons he’d smuggled in, barely resisting his growing desire to end the existence of the upjumped insect speaking to the room.
"Finally, the people have lost faith in you, Hierarch. Your leadership has been marked by tumult, and by an inability to release our ancestors from their endless waiting in the in-between. The people won’t stand for this. The people demand changes. The people demand results. The emperor cares deeply for his children and hears their cries. One eight from today, you’ll return to this palace, at which time your fate will be judged. Your actions between then and now will be a heavy weight on one side of the scale."
The seneschal turned, showing his back to Kraada in an insulting display, then turned again as he stood beside the emperor, so bold as to place one hand on the back of the throne. "Hierarch Kraada Tak, you’re dismissed from presence of the emperor until one eight from today. Go, and consider your failures, and what may be done to mitigate them."
To the room at large, he said, "The emperor thanks his people for their constant support, and for their justified concern about the actions of Hierarch Kraada Tak. You’re invited to return in eight days when your concerns will be answered with a final decision."
The seneschal's eyes led Kraada's own to the grim figure of the royal executioner, who stood in his appointed place at the foot of the dais, holding the ornamental axe that was his badge of station.
Kraada turned on his heel and marched from the throne room, and then the palace, without a word.
Upon his return to the cathedral, Kraada had shucked his regalia, throwing each piece into the arms of waiting servants as he made his way to the sanctuary. He knelt in that echoing space—clad in his armor and carrying his weapons—and sought guidance. His thoughts were a tumble, and he longed for the clarity he’d so often experienced in this place. His confidence of long ago, that the gods fed him the messages of his unplanned sermons each week, was sorely missed. As he raised his head from the floor, a shimmering assaulted his eyes, and his patron goddess, Lelana, stood before him again.
"It appears your distraction has succeeded on multiple fronts, Tak." His face twisted as he tried to make sense of her words. "Your true enemy has revealed himself. Emperor Enjaaran Velt."
Kraada considered her words and sighed at the enormity of it. Of course, it was divine intervention that allowed a report of his doubling of the forces to prematurely reach the ears of the emperor. His shoulders sagged as some of the suffocating tension left him, and a smile spread across his face.
"But how will you deal with this enemy? Distraction? Deception? Or direct action?" He dared look up to meet her eyes, and they burned into his own. He refused to flinch, but knelt under her gaze, waiting.
"It’s time for you to act, Hierarch Kraada Tak. Take what the gods have offered now. Or step aside and let a bolder leader serve us. Your choice, and answer, will be clear within the eight days the emperor has provided you."
Lelana faded to translucency, then to transparency, and then was gone. Kraada knelt in tears, his forehead touching the floor as the drops created a sheen on the stone.
After an unknown time, he raised himself from the hard surface, cursing again at the pull at his side. He staggered to the door, growing stronger and more committed with each step, and burst through. His seneschal and protector were flanking the opening, and presumably had been since the moment he entered meditation. "Attend," he ordered with a snap of his fingers, and led them into his personal chambers.
Kraada directed them to a pair of chairs at an ornate table, then took the one opposite them. "I’ve had a vision, given by the gods. We’re required to act before the emperor's promised time elapses." He couldn’t refer to Enjaaran Velt without a sneer. "We have several things to accomplish."
He spread his hands. "First, share this information only with those who absolutely must know it. I'm sure the threat hasn’t escaped your attention?"
Both of his trusted subordinates shook their heads, and Variin looked at Chanii to respond. The seneschal spoke for them both when he said, "Someone’s been sharing secrets with the palace. Someone from within the cathedral."
Kraada nodded. "What do you suggest we do about that?"
"We’ll investigate thoroughly, Hierarch,” Chanii responded.
"And when we find them, we’ll act," added Variin in her soft, low voice.
"Err on the side of safety. If there’s any doubt, expel them from the cathedral. If there is a hint of certainty, eliminate them."
"Yes, Hierarch." His seneschal rose to depart. "Are there any other orders at this time?"
"None. I leave this in your capable hands."
The seneschal gave a respectful nod and exited. His protector inquired, "Hierarch, will you sleep now?"
"I’ll try, Variin. I will try."
Hours later, despite the exhaustion that suffused him down to his very soul, he awoke. Staring at the ceiling, he examined the mural that celebrated the construction of the first home for the church many centuries before. His eyes burned, and his mind raced as if he had a fever. "I will be worthy," he whispered, unaware he’d been murmuring those exact words continuously since climbing into sheets.
"I will be worthy."
Chapter Ten
The airlock hatch slid aside to reveal the terrain of the small moon beyond it. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Kate stepped forward onto the surface. The gravity boots activated to keep her from floating away. As she stepped, the attraction decreased to allow her to lift her foot, then locked her down again as her foot descended. It was uncomfortable in its lack of familiarity, but far from a problem.
"Works perfectly," she said. "Let's move."
They crossed the short distance to the alien base’s hatch, which opened at their approach. "Thank you, Pandora" said Kate.
"You're welcome, Commander," the cultured voice of the ship responded in her helmet.
Kate's lips curled in a smile. With each passing day, Pandora seemed to develop a new facet of her personality, making their first robotic interactions seem a lifetime ago. Before they entered the alien base, Kate gave commands to arrange a marching order, and Lieutenant Jaleh Keziah, second engineer, led the way into the ship with his rifle pointing ahead and seeking trouble.
Chief Engineer Trey Winstel had brought advanced sensors and quickly spooled out the readings. "The f
acility appears to be in vacuum. No sign of movement. Thermal signatures consistent with equipment in standby mode pretty much everywhere."
"No surprises there," replied Claire Martin from the bridge. "Although, you would’ve thought after shooting at us, the base would be a little more prepared for our entry."
"Be careful what you wish for," Lieutenant Shaun Wickrens said, but was immediately cut off by Keziah's shout.
"Motion detected, close by!"
The team aligned themselves to clear shooting lanes—the front-most people flat against the walls, the rest choosing different heights in the middle, so they could fire forward down the corridor without hitting their own people. With the whir of servos, four enemies bounded into the hallway ahead of them. They were tall, at least a meter higher than Kate. They were roughly humanoid with polished metal legs, torso, and arms. She had only a moment to register that there were more limbs than expected before Diaz gave the order to fire.
The team had preset for lasers, so energy blasts traveled to the enemies. They carved into the robots' skeletons, marking the skin and carving divots where they passed, plunging entirely through in places. Still, the alien mechanisms kept coming.
Diaz barked into the channel, "Wickrens, Keziah, Winstel, projectile fire." Flying metal filled the air as her people switched modes on the rifles, sending bullets speeding at the robots, who were now frighteningly close. Each gave a small fiery bloom as they hit. The explosives in the tips weakened the impacted area so the slug could penetrate deeper. One of the four fell, the victim of multiple precise shots at the junction of head and neck.
The lead robot pushed forward into melee distance, and Diaz engaged it, raising his armored arms in an X to block the downward arc of what looked like a giant hammer. He was forced to dive back and to the side immediately after as two of the other arms swung across—one of them holding a long knife and the other a cutting torch.