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Merillian: 2 (Locus Origin)

Page 14

by Christian Matari


  Having heard each argument in turn, Captain Mitchell was at an impasse. Accepting the offer came with its share of risks. No doubt there was the chance it would anger Rodan Kesh and his people, but seeing as the Gaians had refused even to grant them an official audience, perhaps it was a risk worth taking. After all, the reward for performing Shikari’s task could mean everything for them. Not only would it allow the freedom and mobility the advanced drive technology itself would bring, but it would also secure an alliance with someone in a position of influence, at least amongst one of the multitude of races that seemed to inhabit this part of the galaxy. For all they knew, relying on the Council to grant them asylum would come with stipulations and require them to relinquish certain rights. It would probably result in their complete dependency on the Etherium for the foreseeable future, and there was nothing Mitchell hated more than having his fate in someone else’s hands.

  As far as he could see, Shikari certainly seemed to be the most viable option available to them. At the very least, he decided he ought to arrange a meeting with her, see for himself who he was dealing with. As a highly trained psionic operative he felt confident that he could gauge her true motives. If there were anything amiss he should be able to sense it… or so he hoped. He’d never used his abilities on a non-Terran before.

  The crew was given strict orders to remain aboard the ship, while the captain and Serena went to negotiate with Shikari, taking only Jago with them for protection. They waited eagerly. Marcus had wandered up to the observation deck, where he found Dr. Gehringer engaged in a heated debate over the hypothetical origins of the Gaian people with his research assistant, Dr. Linda Haake, outside their workspace.

  The first time Marcus had met the woman, he’d found her somewhat cold and distant. Though he could see that, at one point, she’d been a beautiful woman, her looks had faded quite some time ago, and now her once-elegant facial features seemed exaggerated by decades of cosmetic surgery, her skin stretched over her chin and her cheekbones artificially high to hide the decay of age. Her manner was subtly patronizing, as if everyone aboard were beneath her notice. Marcus’ position aboard ship had awarded few opportunities for him to interact with the scornful woman, but each time he had had lowered his impression of her.

  “They must be among the very first colonists sent out by C-CORE,” Dr. Gehringer was saying when Marcus entered.

  “I don’t see how that could be even remotely possible, Doctor. Those colonists were sent out over a hundred and seventy years ago with only rudimentary equipment. How in the name of the Republic could they have advanced so far?” Dr. Haake countered.

  “A lot can happen in nearly two centuries, Linda,” the scientist insisted, staring at his own pale reflection in the massive window.

  “None of the ships sent out by C-CORE were destined to even leave the Terran sector,” his assistant continued. “We’re tens of thousands of light years away.”

  “I suppose they could be an indigenous species, native to the Merillian galaxy,” Dr. Gehringer hypothesized, rubbing his smooth, hairless chin. “Who knows? There could be humans all over the universe.”

  “That’s a flawed theory,” Dr. Haake argued. “The language similarities are too great. Gaians and Terrans appear to speak nearly exactly the same language. If they were indigenous to this galaxy, their language wouldn’t be the same as ours, even if their biology somehow was.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Could Earth have sent another ship?” Dr. Haake added hesitantly.

  “Given the timeframe, I find it highly doubtful,” Gehringer responded. “Don’t forget that we’ve only been in the Merillian galaxy for two hundred and eighty four years. And if Earth had sent another ship, they’d have sent it to our coordinates. They would have wanted to know the fate of the Lazarus.”

  The pair of them stood, silently contemplating their hypotheses, but were both eventually forced to the same conclusion: the origins of the Gaians would have to remain a mystery, at least for now.

  Having been eavesdropping on their conversation from his position in the hatchway, Marcus turned to leave, feeling somewhat guilty for his furtive behavior, but not wanting to get caught up in a debate where he was sure to be patronized and made to feel a fool.

  “Ah, Corporal Grey,” Dr. Gehringer cried just as Marcus turned to leave. “Any news from the captain?”

  Marcus froze in his tracks, fully aware that he’d been caught red handed.

  “Nothing yet,” Marcus confessed. “He should be back any moment now.”

  “Excellent. I do hope he managed to bring back what I requested,” the scientist muttered to himself.

  “What was it that you wanted?” Marcus asked, stepping in from the gangway now that he couldn’t get away.

  “Oh, just some data files I was hoping he could procure for me so that I can learn more about these species we have encountered.” Gehringer replied dismissively. “Please inform me when he arrives.”

  “Yes Doctor,” Marcus replied, as neutrally as possible.

  Though Marcus had his reservations about Dr. Gehringer, the strange-looking little man came highly recommended, despite his obvious shortcomings. He had advanced degrees in several scientific fields, making him an invaluable addition to the Tengri’s mission, for all that he seemed oblivious to his own lack of empathy or social skills. If only Marcus didn’t find him so very unnerving.

  * * * * *

  Captain Mitchell and the others returned from their meeting in Xhalpithia shortly after Marcus made his escape from the observation deck. The crew once again gathered in the galley, waiting for news of their negotiations. Jago stood by the kitchen counter, stuffing his mouth with leftovers from their afternoon meal while Knoles stood irately in the corner and watched as the behemoth devoured an entire bowlful of rice and synthesized proteins. Doc Taylor was lounging in one of the comfortable armchairs, a cigarette hanging loosely from the edge of his mouth as he blew wafts of smoke into the air, completely at ease, in marked contrast to Taz, who was leaning up against a bulkhead, tapping his foot with impatience. Marcus had taken up position in the back, near the forward viewscreen, sitting on the wide windowsill just above the primary heating vent. The grim looks on everyone’s face revealed that despite their faith in their captain and their acceptance of his decision to agree to Shikari’s terms, they weren’t ready to depart from Semeh’yone so soon.

  “I know it’s difficult, people,” Mitchell addressed them. “But we can’t simply sit idly by and hope that the Etherium will grant us asylum. We don’t even know what asylum entitles us.”

  He paused briefly for dramatic effect, pacing up and down before his assembled crew, his motorized brace whizzing and whirring with each step.

  “We have an opportunity to craft our own fate,” he continued, “our own destiny. I know this is risky, but some risks are worth taking. You all made the decision to join us on this journey. Look what we’ve already accomplished!”

  Some of the stern looks began to fade, expressions of pride taking their place.

  “Since the founding of the Republic, no Terran has ever comes as far as we have. We have seen things none of our people would even have dreamed possible!” Captain Mitchell bellowed. “We cannot simply roll over with our palms outstretched, begging for aid. We are Terrans! We have an opportunity to show this galaxy what we’re made of!”

  Marcus turned his gaze to the crowd once more. The captain’s speech had most of the crew mesmerized. Heads were nodding in unison, lapping up his words, eyes hungry for more. The effect was so noticeable that Marcus couldn’t help but wonder whether the captain was using his psionic abilities to influence them in some way. No. Surely he wouldn’t do so to his own crew. That would be wrong. Wouldn’t it?

  “We have the chance to undo a great wrong. One that would call herself our ally, our friend, has suffered a most tragic loss… and she needs our help,” Mitchell continued, striking a heroic pose as he hammered in the final blow. “And we’re
not going to let her down, are we?”

  “Sir, no Sir!” the crew shouted in unison, causing Marcus to feel a touch of uneasiness at how easily they were all swayed to the cause.

  “I can’t hear you,” the captain prompted.

  “Sir, no Sir!” the entire crew barked in unison, beaming with pride.

  The captain scooped up Spot, who had been anxiously hovering around his feet and whispered into the dog’s ear. “That’s right, Spot. We’re going freelance.”

  * * * * *

  The old squad had gathered on the Tengri’s bridge to prepare for their departure. Spirits were running high, and Marcus was pleased to see his old teammates so excited. Given all of their experiences in recent months, Marcus realized he’d forgotten one central fact about their existence: they were bred for war. The clones had been designed with a certain mentality, one which might well present difficulties if they were to try to adapt to a life of peace and normality.

  Was it so difficult to accept that perhaps their core being would seek out conflict? There was a big difference between being told to fight and being asked to fight. This time, Marcus found himself longing for it, to help free Shikari’s people.

  Captain Mitchell was seated in the captain’s chair on the central dais of the bridge, his pet lounging on his lap with its feet in the air, quivering with each of the captain’s not-so-gentle strokes.

  “Bridge crew, diagnostics check please,” he ordered, spurring Raven and her subordinates into action.

  Holographic interfaces appeared over the consoles, and readouts began to materialize on the forward display. Marcus waited impatiently for the diagnostics check to be completed before hearing the familiar sound of the Tengri’s engines firing up.

  The promise of the coming conflict crept into his mind, waking all too familiar feelings. When he’d left Terra, he had hoped for a simpler life, a life of peace. Initially he had shunned the martial aspect of his old life in the military, dreaming of better days. Now he found himself excited at the thought of standing back to back with his old squad, fighting for a cause they all believed in.

  Turning to watch the captain give the final departure order, Marcus was startled to find Mitchell staring at him, smiling. It was as if the captain knew what he’d been thinking. Mitchell gave him an encouraging nod, then returned his focus to the bridge crew.

  No… Marcus thought. He wouldn’t have…

  Chapter 21

  The Tengri slid silently out of the docking bay into the busy space lanes. Gone was the serenity of empty space. Since their departure from Terra, the crew had grown accustomed to peering out into the darkness with nothing but the stars to light their way. It was only natural that every window was now filled with wide-eyed crewmembers, gaping in wonder at the splendor of Semeh’yone’s visitors. Above them, a two kilometer long superfreighter lay docked alongside one of the station’s massive docking arms. A horde of worker drones scurried about her like a swarm of bees, detaching the freighter’s massive containers, dragging them into an enormous loading dock at the end of the docking arm. Off their starboard bow, a lone frigate so battered it looked more like a piece of scrap than a ship was entangled in a web of energy being projected by a network of drones. A vessel so small it couldn’t support more than a crew of two shot passed the Tengri on an intercept course, its weapons powering up and trained on the unfortunate rust bucket.

  “I guess they’re not getting the same royal welcome we did,” Taz chuckled.

  Captain Mitchell monitored the scene intensely, his keen strategic mind always on the lookout for information that might prove advantageous on a future occasion.

  “Wei, set course for the outer rim,” Captain Mitchell ordered. “Let’s hope our escort won’t keep us waiting for too long.”

  The Tengri’s engines flared and sent them racing through the throng of inbound traffic.

  * * * * *

  The engineering bay was one of Marcus’ favorite places on the Tengri, much to the disgruntlement of Chief Engineer Kerr. The man responsible for keeping the cruiser functioning was a robust character, strong and determined. His balding head dripped beads of sweat down his brow to his swollen cheeks, tinted red from exasperation and the heat of the machinery in his domain. His untrimmed beard and grease-stained coveralls were a testament to his lack of hygiene, his suit so filthy Marcus couldn’t even begin to guess its original color. He was the sort of man you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of, foul mouthed and bad-tempered, constantly cursing the apparent ineptitude of his assistant, Ahlain Lyer.

  Not that the Junior Engineer didn’t deserve it. Marcus had never met a lazier sort in his short life. Ahlain did little more than smoke all day and make up excuses to be sent off on his own, where he would either take long naps where no one could see or engage in flirtatious and often indecent conversation with any of the female crewmembers who would put up with him. Unlike the Chief Engineer’s stereotypical appearance for a man of his occupation, Ahlain was always neatly groomed, his black curly hair the only part of him that contained even a drop of grease, and that not the kind that normally belonged in an engineering bay. His coveralls were spotless and pressed even more accurately than the captain’s. Even his boots were untarnished. If it weren’t for the fact that the man was a virtual library of knowledge on all things related to the inner workings of the Tengri, Marcus wouldn’t have had much of an opinion of the man.

  “Are you stark ravin’ mad, boy?” Kerr barked. “You can’t replace the primary drive coupling without first disconnectin’ the induction field emitter.”

  Ahlain sat still on the brown cardboard box he’d set on the floor to keep the dirty deck from staining his uniform. He’d removed the metal shielding from one of the bay’s many machines, and was about to remove a cylindrical piece of machinery from a wide rubbery tube.

  “If I disconnect the induction field emitter while the engine is still active, it’ll blow the relays,” Ahlain scoffed. “I know what I’m doing, old man!”

  “Is that dangerous?” Marcus inquired, sitting on the flimsy metal steps that lead down to the main engine room.

  “Remind me what you’re doin’ here again, Grey?” the Chief Engineer scowled, his cheeks flush with frustration.

  “I was looking for Spot,” Marcus confessed, leaning forward to prop his elbow on his knee and rest his chin on his clenched fist.

  “Spot?” the Chief Engineer asked in confusion, grabbing a large spanner from a drawer full of tools, his eyes fixed on one of the system’s primary valves.

  “The captain’s dog,” Marcus revealed, a bit taken aback by Kerr’s lack of knowledge. “He likes to wander around the ship, especially into places he shouldn’t.”

  “Huh, is that so?” the Chief Engineer muttered. “Well make sure that mangy mutt don’t come into my engine room, or I promise you he won’t be comin’ out again. You hear me?”

  “Yes Sir,” Marcus noted.

  During their exchange, Ahlain had managed to continue his work uninterrupted, and he now produced a small electronic device, attaching it to the induction field emitter that he and Kerr had been arguing over.

  “What are you doin’, boy?” the Chief Engineer demanded, puzzled by Ahlain’s doings.

  “I’m looping the induction field emitter to the power output of the harmonic relays,” Ahlain explained, pulling a cable from the small device and attaching it to a jury-rigged plug he’d fashioned out of a broken drill bit.

  “And what’s that gonna do?” Kerr cried out, getting down on his knees to get a better look.

  “It will create a static feedback loop and bypass the power surge when I remove the primary drive coupling,” Ahlain said with a self-satisfied grin as he shoved the broken drill bit into the harmonic relay system.

  “Is that safe?” Marcus pondered aloud.

  “We are about to find out,” the Junior Engineer answered as he jerked the primary drive coupling out of its socket.

  Kerr panicked, slamming shut
his eyes and raising his hands to shield from the blast he expected to tear through the engineering bay. A tense second later, the humiliated Chief Engineer got back on his feet, muttering a stream of obscenities.

  “Damned crazy bastard. This is my engine room! You should all know better than to mess with my baby without my say so,” he muttered as he wobbled away.

  Marcus leaned back against the railing, allowing his mind to wander. Despite the unusual dynamic between the Chief Engineer and his assistant, Marcus found the engine room very relaxing. The sound of the engine, the vibrations, the musky scent, all these things and more gave Marcus a warm feeling which he just couldn’t find elsewhere within the Tengri’s cold steel hallways.

  Marcus felt he was probably the only one mildly concerned about the replacement of their engine. Would it sound the same? Would it still give off the same warm and inviting hum when he visited?

  * * * * *

  Taylor ‘Doc’ Vod was enjoying the view from the observation deck. The Tengri had long since left the buzzing traffic of Semeh’yone station, and was skirting past the ring system of an orange gas giant. The usual cloud of smoke accompanied the young medic as he slowly paced back and forth in front of the majestic display when the sound of a hatch opening to his right drew his attention.

  Turning lazily, Taylor was just in time to see Spot launch himself through the half-open doorway that lead to the laboratory and back down the gangway as fast as his little legs would carry him, the pale visage of Dr. Gehringer peering cautiously through the opening in the hatchway, a guilty look on his face. Upon sighting Taylor, he immediately became skittish and made a poorly-disguised attempt at nonchalance.

 

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