by Scott Moon
Zach would have kept his mouth shut. Arthur wouldn’t have needed to cut his knuckles on teeth.
Kevin walked to the Official Neighborhood Library where Ruby worked. She must have spotted him before he could see through the tall glass doors at the top of the broad and well-maintained marble steps. He came to the ONL whenever he could, devouring military biographies and history through headphones while avoiding Ruby and her friends. Written words didn’t make complete sense and seemed to run both ways most of the time.
Reading was a lot of work and having his brother’s girlfriend hovering over him made him uncomfortable. His mother and father had been regulars here, bringing home stacks of books to read aloud to the family.
Ace and Amanda spent a lot of time here in the enforced silence and absence of street gangs. He understood there would be no joyfully surprised reunion with the twins. Ruby had reported back to Arthur the first day she returned to work. No twins at the library. No news.
He resisted a daydream of finding Ace and Amanda curled up in the reading lounge with a pile of books. He didn’t have time and daydreams were for lazy days between work cycles and meal pickups.
“Still no word,” Ruby said, reaching back with both hands to tighten her thick red braid. She wore glasses at the library, even though Kevin was certain she didn’t need them. She dropped her hands. “How is your brother? I haven’t seen him all day.”
“He went to the police station again to make a query. Normally takes a while,” Kevin said.
“I’m sorry they’re gone,” Ruby said. She sounded sincere but also harsh. “Are you sure he is at the station? He asked me to check with O’Neil.”
Kevin shrugged, distracted by an epiphany. Ruby wasn’t the most gorgeous girl of Building 595, but in a way, her appearance straddled the line between homely and drop-dead beautiful. Her bitch act was a wall to keep predators away. Arthur probably served the same purpose.
“I want to read about the Sirens,” Kevin said.
Ruby laughed and raised both eyebrows in mock surprise. “You can read?”
Kevin shifted uncomfortably. “I would watch videos if you had any.”
“Come on.” She grabbed him roughly by the sleeve of his shirt and guided him into the stacks of books. Her supervisor chastised her for not asking permission to help a customer, which Kevin thought was strange. She ignored the man, but Kevin looked back and saw the licentious expression in his eyes.
“I’m going to punch your boss in the mouth,” Kevin said.
She responded without looking at him or the offending supervisor. “Do it before Arthur does. I don’t want him to get in trouble.”
“You want me to get in trouble?”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “If he gets banned from the ONL, I won’t see him except when he stays over.”
Kevin processed that and said nothing.
“What do you want to know about the Sirens?” she asked. “That’s bullshit about them being nymphomaniacs, and by the way, I think they’re androgynous.”
“Is that good?”
Ruby laughed, which he kind of liked, even though it made him feel stupid. In the past, as a preadolescent, this had made him want to pull her hair. That had been a long time ago and now he wanted to fix his stupidity instead.
“I need to go to their planet.”
Ruby stopped laughing.
“Well,” she said. “That’s bold.”
Kevin stared, unsure of what was happening. With Ruby, everything was a contest, every concession in an argument fought for or she would have her way. Her silence and direct eye contact did strange things to him.
He refused to look away or argue.
After several moments that seemed longer than they were, she sat him at a table deep in the stacks of hardback paper books. He’d always wondered what exactly the term “hardback” meant, but dared not ask Ruby. She already thought he was a dummy.
Kevin could read with determined effort, but when he did, he remembered his mother sounding out the words in the family room, back when they had a two-room domicile and it required her voice and his father’s guitar to soothe the twins. Back then, Amanda had nightmares nearly as bad as her brother. It was only when she started calling herself Amanda-Margaret that her dreams came under her control.
So he didn’t read much.
Ruby returned after he sat in awkward silence for several minutes, hands folded, back straighter than was his normal sitting posture.
“Here are the best books on the subject, according to my supervisor. You owe me for this, Kevin Connelly,” Ruby said.
“Thanks.”
“You won’t be able to search the Siren world for the twins.”
Kevin clenched his teeth. “If that’s what needs to be done, I’ll figure it out.” He could tell she wanted to say more, probably articulate all the things he had already considered a hundred times. At the head of the list of impossibilities was a single roadblock; he could never earn Travel Privileges between planets. Only the extremely rich and those who enlisted in the military could expect authorization to board a starship headed for another world.
There were colonization lotteries several times a century — which would get him into space at least — but Kevin couldn’t afford to wait that long. Arthur would never allow him to join the military, which meant he needed more money than he had ever dared to imagine in his entire life.
Time passed too quickly in the library. Ruby never came back to check on him. He went home, only to find an urgent message from Arthur on the voice box.
5
Red Fleet
CAPTAIN Danzig Robedeaux hurried toward the bridge, back straight, head held high, and defiant of anyone who thought he was not a proper member of the Starship Pilot Corps. Artificial gravity eliminated his hunger. He wasn’t tall, but years in the service had made him lean and muscular from the exercise needed to maintain bone mass during extended space voyages.
He didn’t care what scientists said about artificial gravity, proper nutrition, and exercise methods. Living in the void was not natural. Humans could never thrive in such conditions. Who would understand this better than a professional spacer like Robedeaux?
With at least half his career remaining, he had everything an SPC officer could desire. The most advanced carrier ship and its squadron of small ships, an excellent crew, and the respect of everyone except certain staff officers of the admiralty. The UNAS Majesty was a carrier of the line that could dominate most star systems alone. Within its launch bays were not only fighter squadrons but fast and well-armed corvettes he could leave deployed on long solo missions.
He didn’t like change, or more accurately, he didn’t like surprises that resulted in change.
Getting called up for promotion from his already lofty status disturbed his understanding of the political and bureaucratic organization he served.
“Is the captain in a hurry?” Melanie Ford asked. “Begging the captain’s pardon, but some members of the crew assume there is danger afoot when their boss storms through the hallways.”
“Everyone knows that is just the way I walk. Keep up.” Robedeaux felt energized by the brisk pace. People who talked too much or too slowly, or walked without purpose, or procrastinated in favor of complaining drained energy from him like some kind of mind-numbing drug. He did not tolerate laziness.
Melanie Ford understood his nature. Sometimes he wondered if she was testing him or was opposing him to fulfill some kind of wrongheaded interpretation of her duty. She was more than capable of meeting or exceeding his pace.
He reached the armored bulkhead leading to the command bridge and stood motionless, facing the scanner to make the process easier. Computers liked to examine the eyes even though identification was a holistic process. He suspected the computer would have questioned his identity if he’d come lollygagging up the hall with no apparent purpose. His metrics were already catalogued within the ship computer.
Melanie stepped beside
him and stood just as he did.
“You were at Brookhaven the first time?” he asked.
She swallowed before nodding. It was one of her expressions he struggled to interpret; seeming to show both acknowledgement and understatement.
“I was in the transport Fleet orbiting the planet but did not take part in the bombardment or rescue missions. When it was all over, I had to do a short stint of garrison duty because the Guard Security Forces had been decimated,” she said.
Robedeaux hadn’t been at the first invasion of Brookhaven, but he had studied the campaign. It was a classic tale of a small action that should never have grown beyond mission parameters. For whatever reason fate caused these things to happen, the Dissident Union Army chose the planet to hide armies of Void Trolls. A small commando force stirred a hornet’s nest with predictable results.
No one liked Robedeaux’s idea that the DU was training the monsters. The commonly held belief among the general staff and the admiralty was that the monsters did not need to be trained and in fact could not be trained. Robedeaux’s analysis of the resources and supplies shipped by the Dissident Union smugglers to the planet suggested there was more going on. He feared an organized Army of Dissident Union. He feared Void Trolls trained to fight like real soldiers.
How anyone could use a mega tank, antiquated as they are in this day and age? Planetary warfare was not his milieu. Fascinating tales of Hannibal’s Invasion of Italy and the island-hopping campaign during World War II were light reading for him, entertaining him with promises of tactical secrets that translated poorly to combat in the void of space.
The SMC and SAC had ignored his analysis of Brookhaven, as was proper. He was a spacer. What could he understand of planetside grunt work?
Robedeaux and Ford strode onto the command bridge, causing him again to be thankful for his post despite the ire of virtually every officer of his rank and above. The UNAS Majesty was everything a carrier should be, and that included a large, well-staffed bridge with a view screen the size of a corvette and resolution to make gods jealous.
“Security, what is the status of the bridge?” Robedeaux asked before taking the command chair central to the large stadium-style room facing the multi-sectioned view screen.
Special Warrant Officer Jacob Moreau conducted a quick five-point check of the guards stationed around the bridge. Each member of this special unit was encased in heavy battle armor designed for both regular and void combat. Only Captain Robedeaux, XO Ford, or SWO Moreau could authorize deactivation of the war-machines, because that was what the captain’s guards wore, more than just armor / rescue gear, but something just short of two-legged battle tanks if battle tanks were also well-armed spacecraft.
“The bridge is secure,” Moreau said.
Robedeaux paused for several moments, conducting his own mental checks and bracing himself for what was to come. “Navigation, do you have a course?”
“Yes, Captain. All waypoints have been calculated for the designated rendezvous at the Brookhaven Lagrange Point.” Lieutenant Mud had passed up a chance at his own ship and retained his current rank to be part of the Majesty bridge crew. There were times he seemed to resent his choice.
“Conduct a check with your assistant,” Robedeaux said.
Mud flared his nostrils, then turned to Secondary Navigation Officer, Ensign Selena Alonso.
She nodded.
“Ensign Alonso has performed redundant checks of all coordinates, just as I have,” Mud said. Despite his resentment and apparent scorn for having his work tested by a junior officer, he always referred to Alonso by her proper rank.
“XO?” Robedeaux said.
“Security is in place, human and computer navigation redundancies are confirmed. We are ready to make contact,” Ford said. She was the only person on the bridge, including Moreau, who had half a dozen combat ribbons for valor, who wasn’t unnerved by what came next.
“Very good,” Robedeaux said. “Let’s contact the Guide and get started.”
He hated the Alcubierre FTL Drive. The science was nothing new. The technology was well established if only used for unmanned flight until a hundred years ago.
There is something in here, he thought. Sudden and crushing paranoia always accompanied the first stage of a jump. It was like gazing through the Gates of Hell, tasting damnation, despite his half hearted belief in such things.
The sensation lasted only seconds.
The inside of an Alcubierre Tunnel felt organic and sterile at the same time.
An alien made of energy and dark matter separated from the sensor arrays and strolled around the bridge. “Hello, Captain Robedeaux. It is good to see you again. Did you bring me anything?”
Robedeaux tapped his personal information tablet and sent a digital signal to the Void creature.
“What is this?” the alien asked. “Ah, a picture. Of what? Your god?”
“It is a photograph of the Sistine Chapel. You asked for more art last time we traveled this way,” Robedeaux said.
The creature made no comment. There was no way to tell if it received the information, apart from the question about the picture. “Have your scientists learned the way of the path? Do you still need my help to travel beyond the stars?”
“We have always known the coordinates and the mathematics. And, for the record, I never ask for your help,” Robedeaux said, his guts liquefying as he refused to see if the rest of the bridge crew could move yet.
“We’re through, Captain,” Ford said. “Did he come this time?”
Something whispered in Robedeaux’s mind. He nodded but pressed his lips together. Color drained from his face; he could feel it and imagined he was white as a sheet.
“Security, give me an update on the crew. Did anyone experience the Guide?” Ford said.
Robedeaux tried not to pass out. Any member of the crew who sensed the Guide would find himself or herself in SPC Officer Candidate School, no matter if that person were a cook, criminal, or politician. Well, maybe not a politician, Robedeaux thought.
Lieutenant Mud and Ensign Alonso smiled at each other, ready to exchange hugs in their happiness.
Mud faced Robedeaux and Ford. “We will have a smooth trip. I should note that our calculations were spot on. No changes this time.”
Robedeaux nodded. “I knew they would be.” He was a man with many unpopular ideas, such as his suspicion that the DU was training Void Trolls to fight on Brookhaven. However, that bit of tactical heresy was nothing compared to his views on the Guide.
But he knew the truth. No one else wanted to face it.
The Guide wasn’t helping them use the Alcubierre fields; it was hiding something from them — steering ships around some part of space it didn’t want them to see. Popular belief was that the Guide, for reasons unknown, was necessary to help them through mathematical problems humans were not capable of solving.
Which was bullshit.
BROOKHAVEN Lagrange One could not hold another ship. Robedeaux received orders to take command of Red Fleet, Red Carrier Group 1 and did so. He now had seven carriers, nineteen destroyers, thirty-eight battleships, and all the smaller warships that came with them. Red Carrier Groups 2 and 3 were at BL2. Blue Fleet, in its entirety, was at BL3.
Captain Robedeaux was about to become even more unpopular, because he could not fail to voice the stupidity of this concentration, no matter how temporary.
“XO, please send a message to the admiralty that I will report in person after a thorough assessment of my new command,” Robedeaux said.
“Yes, Admiral. I should advise you that your orders state they did this for you in anticipation of your arrival,” Ford said.
“Noted. Thank you, Commander Ford. Comms, please advise my ship captains that I require status updates within the hour. RCG1 will remain dispersed. There will be no ceremony of command,” Robedeaux said. “Please put a view of the fleet on the screen.”
He understood the view was enhanced, more like an electronic rep
lica than an actual view of space. Even the nearest ship was beyond what the human eye could see. He stared at the galaxy as though he were a god. The dark panorama was filled with ship trajectory icons.
“Stunning,” Ford said without emotion. She hustled to follow his orders, which were much easier to give than to implement.
Robedeaux doubted he would be an admiral for long. Unpopular captains had a way of ascending to scapegoat status.
6
Crime Lord
KEVIN listened to the recorded message again. His brother had been angry when he called and not just because it was expensive to use the voice machine and even more expensive to leave a message. When Kevin first came home, he had spent several minutes searching the apartment and doing minor chores before noticing the blinking phone light. If he hadn’t been tidying up, he would never have lifted the discarded shirt from the table where the communication box was mounted.
There was no way to call back and argue the point, so he dressed in a fresh pair of pants and a shirt before leaving to meet his brother.
As he walked, dread eclipsed his concerns for the twins. His brother was a force of nature — feared by everyone in 595 and the surrounding neighborhood. He had the natural strength and muscular build that attracted women and discouraged rivals. Arthur didn’t fight often but when he did, the violence scared away not only his victim but anyone who saw what happened.
That didn’t mean he was invulnerable. Police, some gangs, and the rare military patrols that came into the city gave Arthur pause. He would stand up to a group of thugs no matter what part of the city they were from. In fact, the farther they traveled, the more likely Arthur and others like him were to resist the invaders. Kevin had fought in several of these brawls and even took part in raids Arthur led into neighborhoods to send a message. But even his brother didn’t mess with bosses of the criminal underworld.
Kevin didn’t like going through areas where gangs and riot cops tread carefully.
The walk was too long. Time to think left Kevin imagining scenarios where things went wrong and he died alongside his brother, leaving the twins to fend for themselves wherever they were being held captive. He knew he should focus on actionable steps to improve the situation as his mother had taught him. His father would’ve calmed him down and kept a level head, which was easy for him because he was built more like Arthur with a mindset like Amanda, the most serene soul in the family.