“It seems a little silly that you’d think of doing so. What reason do you have to object? This case is going to trial. The only two other outcomes is death or dismissal. Your client-“
“I was a court appointed lawyer,” the lawyer corrected.
The judges all scowled. “Court appointed or not, you keep your mouth shut,” lectured the first judge. “You dare not interrupt any one of us at your whim.” The lawyer lowered his head in silence. Constantine continued his show of stoicism. “As I was saying,” the judge continued. “Your client was certainly the captain of the vessel that engaged in the skirmish with an Alliance vessel. We cannot allow him the right of dismissal, nor do we wish to simply execute him as is summarily dictated per our regulations.”
Constantine’s lawyer stood confused by the words. He had not expected anything different than defending a lost cause. This gave him a chance… if he could get his client to talk. Success would give him certain retribution for sticking him with this case to begin with.
His client though was muted. Finding out that Delilah and Gliphon survived would be the only thing that could give him any hope. Who knew if he’d ever find out?
Alliance Recruitment Center
Chicago, Earth
“It’s a lie, you know,” a voice came from behind Bradley Dominiac.
Bradley turned slightly to see who had spoken to him. He was waiting in line for recruitment into the Alliance Naval/Astrological Corps. The signs lining the wall shifted as changed back and forth in various propaganda images.
“What’s that?”
“The Yorktown,” the shaggy man said nudging to the image of a large transport ship emblazoned with the words Remember the Yorktown! Defend the honor of the Alliance!
Uninterested, Bradley still asked to humor the man, “What about it?”
“Wasn’t a transport ship,” the man said in a matter-of-factly way. “That ship was a warship.”
The line moved forward. Bradley had to shuffle forward. The shaggy man followed. In front and behind of Bradley there were men and women of varying ages and shapes. Each were there to give to their term of service. Some were there voluntarily while others were there under other circumstances: some through the draft, others were signing up to avoid prison.
Despite not being in a war, the Alliance kept the draft active in order to keep their forces flexible. The decision for this was made after the outer worlds were abandoned by the Alliance. Military officials wanted to have a large pool of soldiers to pull from at a moment’s notice. If another opportunity arose to push back beyond the asteroid belt, they would have the man-power to do so, voluntarily or not.
“It doesn’t matter,” Bradley told the man with a dismissive tone. “I’m joining regardless. I don’t really care about what they do.”
The man huffed. “Not getting’ me by my accord.”
“Draftee?” another asked.
“Yeah,” the man shrugged. “And I’m not built for prison.”
The line moved up again.
Bradley cursed himself for choosing that day to go and volunteer. He could’ve done it the day before the draft was announced, when he turned 16, but he was more interested in celebrating his birth date. He would have normally been able to walk right up to the recruitment center. Now he had to wait in line. Inevitably the recruitment office would send half of the staff elsewhere and place droids and other assorted help out for maintenance.
“That’s too bad,” the other said to the old man.
“I hate the Alliance,” the man offered. Bradley already felt annoyed by the man, now he felt uncomfortable listening to him as well. “I’m hoping to get 4F’d”
There was no rejection for anyone being drafted or enlisted. Generally, the Alliance also instituted practices that found uses for everyone that enlists in any manner. Those that were found to be incapable of one form of service were redirected to another. It was a way of maintaining equality.
The line moved forward again in forced silence as Bradley stopped listening to the annoying man. After some time they finally made it up to the desk when the man said choice words degrading the Alliance. Bradley didn’t quite catch what he said, but it had been serious enough that weapons were drawn and Bradley was forced to duck down to save himself from the explosion of weapons fire.
He felt the warm blood of his annoying companion spray onto his face. Instantly vomit wanted to rush up though he was able to keep it down. When he got up, he saw the man, dead, in a pool of blood. His clothes were shredded from the fire. In his hand was also a weapon, a grenade with the pin still intact.
Alarms were ringing throughout the facility. Those behind the old man were even more shaken than Bradley. Most of them already ran. A few medical response technicians came within seconds to work on the dead man.
“You OK, son?” one of the recruiters asked, placing a gentle hand on Bradley’s shoulder. Bradley nodded. “Draftee or volunteer?” the recruiter asked plainly.
“Volunteer.” He replied, his voice shaking. His eyes were focused entirely on the man. He was amaze at how much blood was on the floor and how in death, all the strength a person once had is all vanished.
Seeing the distracted, young recruit, the recruiter explained, “this happens at least once a month. It is worse during days like this. It is why we run a minimal staff, just in case they’re able to get something bigger.”
“What’s their problem anyway?” Bradley asked. “Why come here just to die?”
The recruiter shrugged. “They just hate us, I guess. Have their own grudge against the system for some reason o’ another.”
Bradley felt disturbed, even more so than by nearly being killed. He’s felt dislike for people before, but it had always been for a reason. None of his feelings would ever draw him in to harm a group of people in such ways or worse. This man just wanted to come in a make a statement. Something in killing a recruiting officer and some random draftees and volunteers appeared to spark the dead man’s ire. Bradley felt emboldened by the prospect of defending the Alliance from such people: those unwilling to give it a chance.
“You should’ve come yesterday,” the recruiter joked. “It was better then.”
“Huh?” Bradley responded still staring at the blood on the floor. “What do you mean?” The alarms continued to sound.
“Here,” the recruiter said as he handed Bradley a towel. “Clean your face off. We had three of these people. One tried to get his dog to attack us, another forgot to attach the detonator to his vest, and another was like this one,” he said pointing to the dead man. “The failed bomb was the most entertaining. We didn’t know that it wouldn’t work.” The soldier chuckled. Bradley added a half-hearted laugh as well. “Always the draftees you have to worry about. So you ready?”
Nodding, Bradley followed the recruiter to begin his enlistment.
Independent Space
ISS Regalia
“Where to?”
Trike looked over the navigation with dissatisfaction. “As far from here and the Alliance as we can get.”
The Regalia had jumped off of Oberon nearly as soon as the incident occurred. Trike had no interest in furthering any time there. He didn’t want to know where Adrianna went. Nothing good would come from trying to trace anything from Haden’s life without Haden. Besides, it was good fortune for him to take over if he could keep away.
“What are we going to do?” Harriet asked.
“Haden’s gone, so we’re going to find work where we can and try to get our noses away from all of this attention.”
“So your Captain now?” Ned shot out. His chair spun to face the others in the bridge.
Trike shook his head. “I am still first mate. I don’t want that position,” he remarked as he motioned to the small area usually designated for Captains.
“How noble of you,” Ned shot back sarcastically.
“I’m not the leader type,” Trike said. We’ll find someone crazy enough to take us over and get us som
e real work.” He knew that the crew wouldn’t accept him directly as captain. He was better fit to manipulate behind the scenes. Maybe though he could just slip into the role and they wouldn’t notice or care.
“So what’ll we do about the girl?”
Trike thought over the slender android they took with them. In the fray he hadn’t realized that she was pulled on board. “You mean the robot… Keep it confined until we figure out what to do with it.”
Ned shook his head as he turned back to his controls. Harriet
Rhea
Labor Sector 1T, “Pallas” (near sector 1A)
“Can you get up?” the station’s doctor asked. Delilah slowly pulled herself up from the table and then sat on the edge. She had come out of her unconsciousness just a few minutes ago. Nothing was familiar until she located Gliphon. He was sitting over in the corner of the room paying animated attention to her.
“Good, good,” the doctor commented on Delilah being capable of sitting up. The doctor was a squat, but handsome man. He had orange color eyes, an obvious product of genetic manipulation procedures. He had brown hair that appeared to complement the tone of the eyes.
“What happened to her?” Gliphon asked out of the corner.
“Well, Gliphon,” the doctor said. He had known Gliphon for years, an easy task when it is family. Doctor Pales was Gliphon’s uncle. It was the only place that Gliphon could figure on taking Delilah. With no money to pay, getting his uncle to handle it was one of few options. “She sustained a severe concussion with minor brain hemorrhaging. All easy to repair. She’ll just be a little woozy for a bit,” he said smiling to Delilah. Turning back to Gliphon, “so tell me what happened?”
“Our ship was taken over by the Alliance. We’re the only ones that made it out alive.”
The calm face of Doctor Pales became the look of concern. “Alliance? Out here?” Shaking his head, he mumbled: “I thought that those reports were false.”
Pales was practicing on the Pallas, a small station of nearly 56,000 people orbiting Titan. They were the jumping off point for the colonization project taking place there. Titan surprisingly was one of few moons in the solar system to have not been colonized.
Gliphon grew up there. He was a spacer. That is what was termed for those growing up or being born in a ship or on a station. Colonists and settlers were simply called colonists. There was a definitive distinction for those still born Earth bound and those born elsewhere in the solar system. The worst were those born on stations and ships. Gliphon spent much of his time hiding that distinction for his own social standings. He never understood how people could assign value based on the location that one was born.
“They just attacked us,” Delilah inserted. “There wasn’t any warning. I blacked out after right after the first hits.”
Doctor Pales turned to Gliphon, “They killed everyone?”
“I think that we were the only ones that escaped.”
“They’ll be after you,” he warned. “They’ll figure out who you are and make you disappear.”
Gliphon waved the suggestion off. “I’m not worried. I’ll run, and if they catch me then I’m dead. There’s not much to complain about being dead.”
“Stop saying that,” Delilah insisted.
“She’s right. You should just lay low. Go to Titania. It’s a smaller colony. Get lost in there and find some work that’ll keep you fed. Neptune is not a good place to be near, and neither is Jupiter. But go to Titania. It’ll be easier to find the work there. It’s close to Oberon too. Good for food labor jobs.”
“What about staying here?”
“They’ll look for you through your family, through me. I can’t let you risk it.”
Gliphon contemplated for a minute. It was a rash decision to hack into the escape pod’s controls and reroute to here. There was a reason that Constantine had set the pods to go to Rhea. There was help there. There would be shelter in that others would help keep them safe. Pallas was not a trading station, he wouldn’t be as able to find the work.
“We’ll go to Titania then,” he finally said reluctantly.
“Good,” his uncle replied. “Charter passage on my account. It’ll put me at the limit to my rations, but I’ll make it through to the next round.”
Doctor Pales reached out his hand to shake. As soon as Gliphon gripped, Pales pulled his nephew in for a strong hug. Whispering in his ear, he said, “Don’t trust anyone. If they attacked your ship, then their ready for another push. You escaping might compromise it. They’ll need to cut the supply chains first, that’s why your ship was a target.”
“I’ll be… We’ll be fine, Uncle,” Gliphon said, patting him on the back. “I’ll take her, and we’ll be fine.
“I know you will,” a choked up voice came out. “I just wish your father was here to see you.”
Gliphon lost his father when he turned 16. To his uncle, Gliphon was a spitting image of the man he called his brother. Personalities were near identical, and every time Gliphon visited it brought a flood of memories to Doctor Pales. His nephew was the only family he had left.
And he was all that Gliphon had.
Two years after his father died, his mother committed suicide. Neither event was able to take much hold on the young man as he did his best to ignore them and block them out.
Placing his hands on his uncle’s shoulders, Gliphon said, “Thanks. It was good to see you again, Uncle.”
“You too. Take care of her,” Doctor Pales said. “Find yourself a new ship and stay low. There’s no telling what the Alliance will do if they figure out who you two are.”
Gliphon nodded before turning and taking Delilah by the hand leading her out of the office.
The two slowly made their way through the crowds that were there to see his uncle. Some of them glared coldly as they had been passed up when the two arrived. When they exited the office they were immediately swept up in the crowds that were there.
Areas like Pallas were densely populated. As they expanded out further to accommodate the growing populations, the populations themselves expanded equally. It was like an organism that grew to the size of the container it was kept in.
Most of the basic living quarters could hold a family of eight people, and they were lived in accordingly to save on the costs.
“Where to now?” Delilah asked curiously. “We can’t live here for long. We have nothing.”
“We find a ship,” he replied.
“Really? That’s going to help us how, getting ourselves a ship?” Delilah was still feeling the effects of her concussion and the treatment. Occasionally the world around her shifted and then dragged. So many people around her gave her that feeling regardless. She hated crowds. Although she never felt any bit of claustrophobia with rooms, corridors, or other physical locations, crowds immediately brought forth those feelings.
Before she could even think to prepare herself, the strong feelings of nausea overtook her. Gliphon felt the pull on his hand as Delilah fell back. “Are you alright?” he asked in a clear panic over her new symptoms.
Waving him off, she responded by nodding. “Crowds,” she muttered. Then without warning she leaned over and threw up. The last thing that she remembered seeing was the blood on the ground. She couldn’t place whether it was her own or not.
Alliance-Independent Space Border
DASS Nimitz
“Target is in range,” Lieutenant Harper Galivander instructed. “Keep clear of the defense turrets. We only need to disable the engines and defense systems, the Nimitz will take care of the rest.”
Harper was the squadron leader for the Viking class raiders, a special short range fighter craft attached to starships. Flying in fast, they had targeted a large pirate-owned vessel that had only hours ago raided and destroyed two ships, one Alliance and one independent ship apiece. The DASS Nimitz was the closest responding patrol vessel.
It was a Nimitz class starship, and like its predecessors that shared its namesake, it was bu
ild and operated as a fighter and transport ship carrier. It was the largest ship of its type and one of the largest space faring vessels ever built. Where the Yorktown succeeded in sheer firepower and mass (due to the special core), the Nimitz boasted the highest squadron capacity and could outgun any ship provided it had its full complement of fighters.
Several shots were fired from the pirate’s vessel aimed not at the fighters, but rather they were targeting the Nimitz.
“Lieutenant!” one of the pilots radioed, “They’re targeting the Nimitz. Should we move to divert fire?”
The Lieutenant replied, “negative. Focus your efforts on the turrets.” She flew down close to the ship trying to stay too close for targeting computers to lock on. If they did decide to change their tactics, she didn’t want to be the first victim. “Saturn, Jasper, follow my lead!” she instructed. Two fighters joined in formation behind her. They flew along firing at turrets along the ship. All of the efforts appeared to fail as the weapons continued to fire.
Just as she and the others flew past, multiple fighters erupted from the pirate’s ship. Jasper was hit and two fighters exploded. The force was enough to cause the pirate’s vessel to lurch to the side. Harper felt the force press against her controls. She struggled to keep the fighter righted.
“Watch out!” Harper yelled, startled by the impacts and the loss of her pilot. “They have fighters launching! All squadrons divert focus to the fighters! Nimitz command, can you add tactical support?”
“Lieutenant Galivander,” a calm voice broke in over the com, “Launching squadrons 46 and 98 to assist. You still retain tactical command.”
“Understood,” she said while pursuing one of the new fighters. Her targeting lock lit up and she fired. A burst of light and fire flew from both sides of her ship and trailed just behind her target.
The additional squadrons arrived in moments. The numbers quickly grew in favor of the Alliance fighters. The pirate ship began moving turrets in a manner to fire scattered bursts. Such a tactic might allow their own fighters to cut free and attack the Nimitz directly.
The Movement of Pawns (Gravity Book 3) Page 4