by Harp Truman
“Next customer,” Fern shouted.
“This isn’t my drink.”
“Next,” Fern said again and the pilots pushed by.
One of them said, “Enjoy your drink, buddy.”
Huck moved on, holding the drink in front of him like it was a grenade that might explode at any moment. He went back over to Ace and Bee, who were not impressed when they saw him without the three beers he was supposed to get.
“You stood in line all that time for that?” Ace said incredulously.
Bee was a little wiser, and wasn’t surprised that Fern had pulled something like that. She’d been watching the two of them circling each other for months, praying for the day when they’d just tell each other how they felt and put her out of her misery.
A minute later, Fern showed up with three beers.
“I knew you wouldn’t let us down,” Bee said as she took her drink.
Fern looked at Huck. “Just make sure you finish that cocktail first. I made that by hand for you.”
Huck took a sip. “Delicious,” he said.
“He can taste the love that went into it,” Bee said.
Fern glared at her. “If he doesn’t like it, he can shove the umbrella up his ass.”
“I’m sure he’d let you shove anything up his ass,” Bee said.
Fern hit her on the arm. It was harder than it looked.
“You guys going to check out the frigate later?” Fern said, changing the subject.
Huck shrugged. “Why bother?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bee said.
“The frigate’s all anyone’s talking about,” Fern said. “I’d like to see it.”
Huck sighed.
“What’s the matter with you?” Fern said. “You used to love the armada.”
“That was when I was still naive enough to think I might one day be a part of it. Hell, little did I know I’d be lucky to ever even set foot on earth.”
“You never cared about earth before,” she said.
“I always assumed it was my home,” he said. “Like I belonged to it. I guess I figured we’d go back there eventually.”
“It costs a fortune to go there,” Ace said.
“It’s not just a fortune,” Huck said. “It’s impossible. We’ll never go there. We’ll never see earth. And we’ll never be allowed to serve in the armada. Why look at something that you’re never going to be a part of? It just rubs it in.”
“I can see that,” Dee said. “I feel you. It’s like when the rich kid invites you to come look at all his fancy shit. You feel like saying, fuck you, rich kid. I’ve got better things to look at.”
“Exactly,” Huck said.
Three
Commander Keller looked out at the assembled crowd from the ceremonial platform. Mouths were agape, people cheered, children threw confetti in the air. The frigate’s size never failed to impress the crowds.
He cut a stern figure in his crisp uniform and wide shoulders. There was little doubt he was in charge. A scar across his left cheek gave him an air of martial austerity that complemented the uniform perfectly.
He scanned the crowd and rose a hand in salute. The crowd roared their approval.
Keller was the kind of man who was born to lead, and everyone who came into his presence instantly sensed it.
A smaller platform hovered up toward the stage and Keller recognized Governor Anderson, a white sash draped across his chest, his arm raised in the most formal of imperial salutes. He’d put on a few pounds since arriving at Io Station, Keller thought.
From the crowd’s perspective, the two men could have been mistaken for brothers. Standing next to each other in their ceremonial finery, they looked like two characters from the same play.
Commander Keller let out a booming laugh that echoed through the loudspeakers.
In a brief ceremony, the governor formally welcomed the frigate, Independence, to Io Station, and then the two men were escorted into the diplomatic chamber.
“Governor, it’s good to see you!” Keller said.
“You made it,” the governor said, “and on time for once.”
Keller laughed, and then prodded the Governor’s belly.
“I see they’re feeding you up here.”
“All the comforts of home,” the governor said, although he’d frequently complained bitterly of the luxuries from earth he couldn’t get in that remote outpost of the empire.
There were a few surprised looks from the governor’s staff, who weren’t at all accustomed to seeing him act on such familiar terms with anyone. He was a fair boss, but a stickler for formalities, and on the whole, he wasn’t known for his relaxed and casual manners.
Keller put his hand on the governor’s back.
“Should we talk in your office? I’ve got a little surprise for you,” he said.
The governor shot him a look.
Keller opened his jacket, revealing a crystal bottle, and the governor’s eyes lit up.
“Quite right,” he said. “Right this way, commander.”
Keller followed him through to his private quarters.
The governor’s private quarters weren’t as opulent as what the two men were used to back on earth, but they were comfortable and well appointed with a stunning view over the volcanic plains of Io. In the distance, a number of eruptions were sending plumes of volcanic material high into the atmosphere.
“They put on quite a show,” the governor said when Keller stopped to admire the view.
There was a large oak table in the middle of the room, and the governor wasted no time telling Keller it was made from wood salvaged from the HMS Terror, the British ship that sank off the coast of King William Island in 1848 while searching for the Northwest Passage.
The walls were adorned with various military accolades and trophies, accrued over years of service in the armada.
Keller shut the door behind him while the governor searched for two clean drinking glasses. His eyes fell on an award given to the governor for his services in the naval academy. Keller picked it up and traced the golden wings of the Imperial eagle with his finger.
Finally locating the glasses, the governor looked up to see Keller admiring the award.
“It’s crazy to think, isn’t it?” he said.
Keller snapped out of his daze.
“What is?”
“You. Me. The academy. It all feels like forever ago.”
Keller put the trophy back carefully in its place, like it might break at the slightest mishap. He let out a long sigh.
“I miss those days,” he said. “Things seemed so much simpler back then.”
“Me too,” the governor said.
Keller reached into his pocket and produced the crystal bottle of liquor. He handed it to the governor who took it like a newborn baby in his arms.
“You know I can’t find this anywhere here. No one imports it,” the governor said, his voice full of emotion.
Keller took a seat in a brown, leather chair and stretched out his legs.
“Well, I couldn’t come visit my oldest buddy empty handed now, could I?” he said.
The governor poured them each a glass and handed one to Keller.
Keller rose his glass for a toast. “To the good old days,” he said.
They clinked glasses. Together they took a sip.
“We really are getting old, aren’t we?” Keller said.
The governor cleared his throat. They sat back and enjoyed the whisky, a Scottish single malt, distilled the old fashioned way.
“What are you waiting for?” the governor said after a few minutes. “You know I’m way out of the loop up here. I’m relying on you to fill me in.”
Keller sat up straight.
“Well,” he said. “If I’m being honest, a lot is happening. Things have gone from zero to light speed. They’re making me admiral.”
“Yes,” the governor said. “I did hear that, and congratulations are in order.”
Th
e clinked glasses again and Keller continued. “I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to the old frigate,” he said. “She served me well. But the new Dreadnought class battleships are coming on line and they’re giving me command of one of those.”
The governor smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes.
“Come on, it’s a promotion,” Keller said.
“It is, but I’ll never see you again,” the governor said. “You’ve got to give an old friend a moment to be melancholy about that.”
“Melancholy? You look like someone just died,” Keller said.
“Well, the convoy, it’s nothing to joke about.”
“It is a one way trip,” Keller admitted.
“It’s more than that,” the governor said. “I see the probe feeds. There’s all sorts of ambiguous data coming back from those things.”
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little green men,” Keller said.
“I am,” the governor said, “and you should be too. No one’s ever even dreamed of traveling that far from earth before. A mission all the way to Alpha Centauri.”
“These are the most advanced ships that have ever been built,” Keller protested.
“I just hope you folks know what you’re doing. I hope Imperial Command knows what they’re doing. Because if anything happens to you,” the governor said. “Anything at all, and god help me, I’ll go back to earth and kick their asses myself.”
Keller laughed. “I know it’s uncharted territory,” he said, “but we’re not going to be alone. We’re going to have the best warships imaginable. We’ll be prepared to defend ourselves.”
The governor laughed. “I guess it’s the little green men I should be afraid for, then,” he said.
“Exactly,” Keller said, before pouring them both another glass of the scotch.
Four
Huck was in his private quarters, a simple space equipped with a bunk bed, a small desk, and a cupboard. All of this was shared with Remi, his roommate, who he somehow never seemed to see unless he was sleeping.
Huck was on the top bunk, flicking through his tablet without paying much attention to anything.
The truth was, he was depressed. Ever since the frigate had docked, he’d been overwhelmed by a crushing feeling that he would never get out of this place, that he would die without ever seeing Earth.
Huck, like everyone else born on Io, had always dreamed what it might be like on Earth. To see the sunshine, the blue sky, the ocean. To see water in a real lake as it lapped against the bank. To see a world that wasn’t so completely hostile that it would kill you in a second if you were exposed to it.
When you grew up in a place like Io, you really learned to appreciate what a blessing it would be to live in a place like that.
He got off his bunk and put on his flight suit. Then he left his quarters and made his way for the storage hangar where he kept his cruiser.
He felt a pang of joy when he saw it. It was the one possession in his life he was truly proud of. He’d built it himself, every inch of it painstakingly crafted with love and skill, and boy was it beautiful. It was nothing like the old rumblebug he used for work. Where that old thing was practical and strong with thick shields and a hull built to take a beating, the cruiser was a sleek and sexy work of art, built of the lightest carbon composite, it’s outer shell so thin it weighed just a fraction of what a rumblebug weighed.
He checked the hangar to make sure the coast was clear, then climbed into the cockpit and buckled up.
It was not your average cruiser either. While there might have been prettier crafts in the fancy neighborhoods back on earth, Huck knew there was nothing that could go as fast. Being from Io, where all the empire’s military grade ion cores were developed and tested, he’d learned early how the physics of the most powerful engines in existence worked.
Somehow, he’d managed to obtain and retrofit a class IV, military grade ion core into his craft, and had actually taken it out for a few test flights without killing himself. He knew his cruiser was faster, more powerful, and more maneuverable than any other craft its size in the solar system.
It was a work of art. And it was all his.
It might have pained him to have to admit he’d never see earth, but Huck knew how lucky he was. If he was still out in the hub, he’d never have had the opportunity to design and build a craft like this.
He flicked on the controls and initiated the ion core, causing the engines to roar to life. He took the craft to the airlock and activated the blast door. Exiting the station like this usually required authorization, but Huck had learned long ago how to override the small ports on the storage hangars and come and go as he pleased.
The airlocks were pretty foolproof and no one paid much attention to him and his experiments. Everyone needed a way to pass the time on Io and if Huck wanted to risk his life building high-speed cruisers, the station authorities could tolerate that.
Once through the airlock, he took the craft low over the ground until he was beyond the station’s security zone and began his ascent toward the cosmos.
Io didn’t have much to offer other than hard work, dirt, radiation, and dreams that would never come true. However, it did have a few natural wonders that would have filled even the most jaded earthborn with awe. The volcanoes could erupt at any second without warning, and frequently did, sending radioactive material right into space where it created kaleidoscopes of color and light like the aurora borealis back on earth. Huck flew past a very active volcano and slowed down, marveling at its power and beauty. He took the craft farther and farther towards the mouth of the volcano, far closer than was safe, but fuck it. He wanted to see inside. He wanted to feel alive. He wanted to be part of something beautiful.
Out of nowhere, it erupted and a bright jet shot toward the sky, causing Huck to pull back hard on the flight stick to avoid catastrophe.
He simply couldn’t help himself. He flew upward with the volcanic stream, higher and higher after the plume, until he could see that he was leaving the thin, toxic atmosphere of Io behind and entering the vastness of space. Beneath him, the curve of the moon was visible, and from that distance, it all looked so small, and so truly beautiful.
The moment was disturbed only by the increasingly loud beeping of the warnings on his console, and the voice of Io Station’s flight control center urgently ordering him to reduce altitude.
Flying around Io was one thing.
Flying out of the moon’s atmosphere into space, leaving it completely behind, was quite another.
Huck was still experimenting with the ion core in his craft and hadn’t even known for certain it would work so well. His cruiser was still very much an untested prototype. He was exhilarated when he realized his little craft had the power to take him into space. If he had enough supplies and oxygen, it could have taken him all the way to earth. Well, apart from the fact that military craft would have forced him back to Io within minutes.
The voice from flight control grew sterner and more threatening.
“Unregistered ion core cruiser, you are not cleared for space flight. Reduce altitude or face immediate action.”
He knew he could keep going. He could fly to a worker’s station on another of Jupiter’s moons. But they’d shoot him down. He was small. He was fast. He could try to outrun them, but where would he go?
He also knew that this little stunt had probably already earned him a day or two in the brig, maybe even the loss of bar privileges for a few days. That would mean he wouldn’t see Fern.
“Fuck,” he said to himself, before flicking on the comms.
“Flight control this is Huck Renoy of unit 1972, Io Station. Just testing my new ion core.”
“I know what you’re doing, Huck. Just get your ass back down here before the military pick you up. You know the rules.”
“Aye, aye, flight control.”
He dropped off the throttle and the craft began to descend, but slow enough that he could look out toward Jupiter and w
onder. Even Jupiter was beyond reach for someone like him. It’s cities, full of malls, cinemas, arenas, real bars, were all things he’d never see either.
He was like a child looking out and seeing a carnival pass by while he was stuck inside.
He made his way straight back to the station and as he approached the main dock, he was met by a rather peculiar sight. All around the main hangar, crowds had gathered. The people weren’t flight crews or maintenance workers, they were civilians, scrubbers, in from the hub with their homemade spacesuits, men and women and even children, all coming to get a look at the imperial frigate.
Scrubbers was a nickname for the workers who were the poorest of the poor, those at the very bottom of Io’s already fairly abysmal food chain.
They didn’t get to live in the station, and many of them didn’t even live in the hub. Instead they were cast out like rodents and forced to live in distant support buildings and other industrial facilities spread out across the moon.
Those places never had proper protection from the radiation that surrounded them. Huck noticed that all of the children were in their best attire, donning scrubber suits that looked like they had been hand-me-downs several times over.
Huck’s eyes focused on a small kid whose suit looked like it could tear apart at any moment. He landed his cruiser, which caused the kid’s jaw to drop.
“Wow, nice ride, mister,” the kid said through the mouthpiece that must have been leaking fumes into the suit.
“Come here, kid,” Huck said.
The kid came over to the ship and Huck opened the storage compartment. He took out a child-sized flight suit. It was the real deal, a suit designed for an earthborn kid who was entering the flight academy. It was a thing of beauty.
“Wow,” the kid said.
“Try it on,” Huck said.
The kid looked up at him in disbelief.
“I’m not kidding. It’s yours now.”
Huck watched the little guy as he ran toward his friends in his brand new suit. Huck’s only regret was that he couldn’t give the kid something more. A job. A place in the station. A chance at a better life.