by C. C. Ekeke
“I don’t let that type of negative thinking in. Besides, Admiral Hollienurax will do something about the Brigade’s situation. I’ve made sure of it.” Sam smoothed down the rumples in her own uniform, and then much to Honaa’s annoyance, did the same to his. “If you hadn’t worked yourself into a nervous pacing wreck, then your suit would be fine.”
The Rothorid shook his head with a smile that displayed needle-like teeth. She’s become such a foundation for Star Brigade, he thought, remembering vividly when Sam had enlisted roughly eight years ago; a refugee from some defunct program in the Union Intelligence Bureau with ‘a special set of skills and a soul full of nothing’. Said program and the operatives it produced had been—in Sam’s words—the ‘sane’ results of a government protecting itself from a fucking insane universe.
Despite her obvious talents in espionage, infiltration, languages and deadly warfare, Sam had come to Star Brigade with more emotional scars than there were stars in the Milky Way. Even after all these years Honaa had only barebones knowledge of her pre-Brigade background. Since then it had been his pleasure to see Sam grow into a brutally effective, dedicated and iron-nerved team player. One who not only went beyond the call of duty on missions at her own expense, but also took on the role as den mother to the Brigade’s younger operatives. Plus, she was the only other senior Brigadier left that hadn’t died or defected to another Union Command division.
Today, Sam was in den mother mode, a role she clearly relished. And her role at the moment was propping up her superior and friend’s fragile ego. “How isss thisss Admiral different from all the othersss?” Honaa asked after Sam had finished fussing over his clothing.
“Hollienurax’s always been a Star Brigade advocate as long as he’s been part of JSOG.” Sam said with a toss of her butter-blonde hair, side-parted and pulled back in a low ponytail falling past her shoulders. “He put his ass on the line against the Defense Ministry’s decision to suspend our charter.”
“That sssupport obviously didn’t ssstop the sussspension, nor give usss help from Sssection M,” Honaa snapped, and resumed pacing. He just couldn’t stay still. “So what isss the point?”
“Waiting for Section M to get anything right is like waiting for a planet’s core to cool,” Sam snorted, her chocolate brown eyes narrowing. “The point is that going directly through the Ministry isn’t the only answer. There are always ways of bending the rules in our favor.”
Honaa frowned the moment he saw the lopsided grin playing across Sam’s face, a sign that she had something reckless up her sleeve. Honaa was about to ask what she had planned before the door hissed open and a formal but unusually croaky voice said, “Commander D’Urso, Captain Ishiliba, I apologize for my tardiness. You weren’t waiting too long, yes?”
“Not at all, Admiral,” Sam replied and saluted, shooting a warning glance at Honaa when he made a derisive hiss. Only out of respect did Honaa turn to salute Admiral Hollienurax as he entered. Two soft yellow eyes peered respectfully at both Brigadiers from elongated and thick stalks that branched out at the sides of the Galdorian’s head. In place of lips, Hollienurax flaunted a hardened beak that could probably break through stone and shared the same color as his rubbery purple skin. He stood only a little taller than Sam with the typical hunched Galdorian stance, but this Armada veteran exuded all the authoritative poise essential to wearing a white Armada admiral’s uniform. Honaa could immediately see how this being had distinguished himself during the Ferronos Sector War’s ground campaigns. His wiry physique, evident even with his suit, clearly came from years of UComm training and swimming the oceans of his water-covered homeworld Galdor.
“Good. Please sit,” the admiral returned their salutes with a webbed hand and strode to his desk.
“Admiral, any word from the Defense Ministry on the Brigade’s charter status?” Sam sat down and cut straight to the point.
The Galdorian had a sad look on his beaked face, made more noticeable by his drooping eyestalks. “Nothing concrete, Commander D’Urso. Since the start of this Kedri Imperium-GUPR Trade Merger, along with other security matters, getting time with Defense Minister Faust herself has been next to impossible,” Hollienurax clasped his hands. “But what I have heard from both she and her top advisors is not positive.
“Many within Union Command and the Ministry of Defense feel the Brigade has outlived its usefulness, that its mission performances in the past eight months have been desultory—.”
“With all due respect sir,” Sam cut in evenly, her bronzed complexion turning a tinge of crimson. “Yes, our performance quality has diminished, but mainly because UComm and the Defense Ministry keep poaching top Brigade operatives without our say-so, leaving us with a roster of rookies.”
“Yes that is true—.”
“And isssn’t it UComm that hasss failed to give usss proper sssupport on Brigade field missionsss in the lassst year?” Honaa chimed in.
“Relax Captain, Commander. I am on your side.” The admiral raised his webbed hands in a disarming manner. “I, unlike others, feel that the Brigade is an integral part of Union Command and the GUPR. But until this trade merger with the Kedri occurs, there is nothing I can do right now.”
I knew it, Honaa seethed. Sam stared at the floor, crestfallen. It seemed to Honaa that there was nothing anyone could or would do except watch the Brigade shrivel up and die. Beside himself with fury, the Rothorid Captain shot up from his seat. There was clearly nothing more to be said.
“But the Minister of Defense did mention one possibility that would make her reconsider.”
Sam looked up quickly. Honaa’s interest was piqued by any chance to save Star Brigade, so he sank heavily back into his seat. “We’re lissstening.”
“Captain Habraum Nwosu.” A clear tension fell over the room. At the mere mention of Nwosu’s name, an explosion of feelings went off inside Honaa; anger, disappointment, bitterness, sorrow, grief. Habraum Nwosu was many things to many beings—former AeroFleet pilot, former Star Brigadier, father, widower, leader, hero, legend. Yet ever since abruptly resigning from Star Brigade, despite having valid reasons, Honaa now only saw him as a coward. The Rothorid kept himself contained on the surface, revealing his feelings by simply narrowing his eyes into hate-filled ginger slits. Honaa dared a glance at Sam and saw that she didn’t even flinch—a credit to her skill at deadpanning. But the Rothorid knew Nwosu’s name had set off an intoxicating swirl of emotion inside her as well, unquestionably more turbulent than his own. “What about Captain Nwosu?” Sam asked coolly.
“Well, he was undeniably one of the finest Star Brigadiers to come along in years and a very sound leader. Now I know that he has been on sabbatical for several months due to personal misfortune.”
“Personal misfortunes to be more accurate sir,” Sam corrected the admiral, crossing her legs elegantly. “And at this point, his sabbatical is indefinite.”
“Ah, losing his wife in that cargo freighter crash last year,” Hollienurax stared at the viewport, thoughtfully rubbing his chin, “and that right after the bloodbath on Beridaas—.”
“The point,” Honaa cut in through gritted, needle-like teeth. “Isss that Habraum isss focusssing on raisssing his ssson for right now and hasss no interessst in coming back.” Habraum’s departure was still a raw wound for them both. Honaa visibly bristled at the thought. But if that’s what it took to save the Brigade, so be it. Sam stared at Hollienurax, her expression empty of any sentiment.
“The reason why I ask of Nwosu is not just because he could help lift the suspension, but so one of you could speak with him before Mr. Greystone does,” Hollienurax said sincerely.
“Atom Greystone?” Sam spat the name out like putrid milk. “His ‘help’ has only made the Brigade’s situation worse. What does that—,” she reined in her fury and began again, “what does he have to do with this?”
Honaa silently swayed his tail in a menacing manner. Hearing that name sent a rush of pure hatred through his heart. Atom Greystone, a liaison betwe
en the GUPR Ministry of Defense and Star Brigade, took the position three months after Habraum had left. Calling him arrogant, ruthless and manipulative was an understatement of cosmic sizes. Hungry for power, Greystone had tried gaining more executive control over Star Brigade, always using his powerful government friends to throw his weight around.
As things worsened for the Brigade this past year, Greystone had given a one-sided assessment of the Brigade’s problems to the Defense Ministry. His objective was to get a more active role in Star Brigade’s direction. But because of his meddling, the Brigade ended up losing its JSOG tiered funding.
At the time that Greystone met with the Defense Ministry, the Bicameral just so happened to be aiming for a leaner Union Defense budget. After that, both the Defense Ministry and the Union Bicameral agreed to suspend Star Brigade’s charter until further notice. And then the Defense Ministry proceeded to transfer out most of the more experienced Brigade operatives to other UComm divisions.
“Greystone somehow heard about Minister Faust’s discourse. Now he’s told everyone that will listen that he will bring back Nwosu himself.” Honaa and Sam eyed each other uneasily as Hollienurax continued. “Given that he said this yesterday and we are still in the middle of the week, Greystone will contact him on a weekend. That gives you two or three days to intercept Nwosu first. Make sure you do.”
Hollienurax leaned forward, eyestalks curved upward to stress his seriousness. “If Greystone reaches him first, I fear his stupidity might permanently burn bridges between Nwosu and Star Brigade.”
“I KNEW he’d ask to bring Habraum back,” Sam exclaimed for the third time in a row. She and Honaa were walking away on a wide ferroment pathway from the lofty UComm Administrative Office. The blocky structure branched off from the larger Armada compound in the heart of Conuropolis’ Diktat District. The rush of sentient beings moving about on adjacent pathways, combined with the loud hovercars traffic passing overhead kept the pair’s dialogue private.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Sam warned, gesturing profusely. “I’d do anything to save Star Brigade. But using Habraum to lift our suspension?” She eyed her superior officer, awaiting his response.
But the Rothorid Brigadier was too lost in thought to answer. His mind drifted back eight years ago to 2395…and began to replay the steady torrent of memories that revolved around Habraum Nwosu. The Star Brigadier first met Nwosu mere months after the three-year Ferronos Sector War had ended between the Galactic Union and the isolationist Cybernarr Technoarchy—initiated by the former’s endeavor to free an indentured species and protect the Union from a potential invasion.
Nwosu, then in his early twenties, had already been rapidly building a name for himself in the UComm with his mind-blowing talent as a fighter pilot always in the thick of the battles during the war that usually left space itself bleeding with the dead and debris. Despite how badly the war had gone for the Union at first, Nwosu’s AeroFleet flight group had continued to score impressive victories over the Cybernarr’s seemingly implacable forces in the battles of the God’s Eye Nebula, the planet Candra and Solara’s Cross. That was until the bloody Battle of the Kyrn Rift. Honaa recalled that slice of Union history as if it had occurred yesterday. It was one of the UComm forces’ first pivotal wins…but at the cost of heavy causalities. Nwosu had fearlessly provided cover fire for those in his flight group lagging behind…only to get himself caught by a Technoarchy ‘Goliath’ dreadnought in the process. It surprised no one that Nwosu had been declared as good as dead. The Cybernarr were a race of networked cyborgs, soulless and merciless, the stuff of nightmares, rarely leaving their foes alive.
The Kyrn Rift victory became a rallying cry for the Galactic Union. Allying with long-time Technoarchy foes in the Kedri Imperium and the Thulicans, the species the Union was fighting to free, the Cybernarr lost ground in an ensuing battle for Beridaas and an attempt to use Earth as a staging ground to attack Union Space. A final victory in the war came over the planet Ferros Arietis in early 2395.
The Technoarchy finally relinquished much of the Ferronos Sector to the Galactic Union. Before vanishing back to wherever Technoarchy Space was in the Dracius Cluster, the Cybernarr shocked the whole Union by releasing Habraum back into Union custody, alive and unharmed. The news streams erupted over his survival, and overnight he became a reluctant intergalactic hero. Honaa lost count of how many profiles had been done on Nwosu’s life, revealing his honorable discharge from AeroFleet—as well him being a maximum. After the latter fact came out, a volatile courting war erupted between every military agency or defense contractor to acquire Nwosu’s services, including Star Brigade.
Then, by the most unexpected circumstance, a chance to recruit Nwosu literally fell into Honaa’s lap like a white-hot meteorite. Habraum’s then-girlfriend Jennica Hoang happened to be the second-level teacher for Honaa’s twin sons at Corowood Primary School. So without informing his superiors, the Rothorid visited his sons’ class the day Jennica brought Habraum in to speak with her students.
The tall, lanky Nwosu was a dark-skinned blend of Nigerian earthborn and Kenende Cercidalean; bald, blunt, brash yet devastatingly bright, with shimmering hazel-gold eyes that pierced through you like knives. The echoes of whatever perdition Nwosu had endured in Technoarchy captivity were obvious in his boyish face, as was a deep humility for his second lease on life. Honaa had known this youth was premium Star Brigadier material within moments of meeting him. “I don’t wanna be wanking off the UComm’s panhandle for the public anymore,” Nwosu had stated frankly in his thick Cercidalean brogue, “I wanna be part of something important again.” Not much convincing was needed from Honaa to recruit Habraum the following week.
Despite the initial doubts of Honaa’s peers, Nwosu didn’t just survive Star Brigade’s hellish training process, but thrived in its torturous depths to become an active operative. It had been Honaa’s great honor for seven wonderful years to mentor and befriend Habraum Nwosu, mainly as he grew into one of the greatest Star Brigadiers to ever grace the organization.
…and then Beridaas happened. Honaa had been on a much needed vacation on Rothor IV with his family. The loss of but one Star Brigadier was tragic enough for Honaa. But eleven of the best Brigadiers from two combat teams, ambushed and killed? The Rothorid scarcely stifled a shiver at the memory of how icy-terror flooded his veins as he raced back to the Brigade’s headquarters on starbase Hollus Maddrone as fast as hyperspace jumps could carry him. He had never forgiven himself for not being where his teammates needed him, even a year later. The Rothorid had arrived then at Hollus to find Habraum and Sam as the only two survivors, but to his stark horror got blindsided by another blow. Nwosu’s wife Jennica had been killed in a fatal spacecraft collision on her way to Cercidale. After Beridaas, Habraum and Jenn were going to travel to Cercidale so that their second child…a girl…would be born on his homeworld, he called to mind, as if from a half-remembered dream. The tragedy still sliced into Honaa’s soul at remembering Habraum’s anguish as both his private and professional worlds had been smashed into bloody ruins. The Cercidalean had vanished from Union Space with his young son, Jeremy, right after Jennica’s funeral—never even bothering to attend the funerals of his deceased teammates and fellow Brigadiers who died on Beridaas. That act had killed any compassion Honaa had for his former mentee.
Since then, not once had Habraum bothered to contact Honaa. The Rothorid felt his scaly skin prickle as an old anger seeped through his body and infected his heart once more. Honaa could not condone Nwosu’s disrespect, his cowardice—.
“Hey!” A finger snap jolted Honaa back to the present. “Ishliba! Where are you?” Sam barked, her voice like a whip. The Rothorid stared down at her, recalling her earlier question.
“It’sss the right thing to do,” Honaa rasped abruptly, stopping in the middle of an intersection with another pathway. As much as it pained him to even consider this, Honaa never put his personal feelings before Star Brigade—no matter how sour his dis
taste was for this alternative. “If bringing Nwosu back will get usss our commission reinsstated, then we ssshould do it.”
Sam gave Honaa a surprised once-over. He was a solid six-foot-two, a good eight inches taller than the human woman. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she sighed in relief. “And I’ll kill that vile dung heap Greystone if he wrecked any chance of Habraum eventually coming back.”
“Go on and initiate contact Commander—Sssam,” Honaa corrected himself upon seeing her annoyed look. Sam hated the formality of titles among friends. “You and Habraum are ssstill are clossse, correct?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said pensively. Rhyne’s mid-morning light glistened off her blonde head of hair. “We speak over the TransNet about once a week, but we’re long overdue for some face to face time.” Honaa never failed to notice how Sam always lit up when it came to Habraum. Their friendship, formed when both were recruits, had been an object of admiration and speculation from the start.
“I’ll arrange a get-together when I come back to Hollus.”
At this Honaa furrowed his brow suspiciously. “You’re not returning to Hollusss with me?”
“No, I have a meeting at the Ministry of Interplanetary Affairs,” she replied in guarded tones.
Instantly Honaa knew what it was about. “The Korvenitesss, still?”
“Yeah? So what?” Sam bristled.
Honaa couldn’t believe his ears. Trying to salvage Star Brigade was a chore in itself. Yet Sam D’Urso had kept at this foolish quest to aid the outcast Korvenite race for months. “That other sssecurity matter Hollienurax ssspoke about other than the Union-Kedri Imperium merger—?”
“Yes Honaa, I know that he was referring to the recent Korvenite escapes and attacks on internment camp facilities,” Sam sighed, already tired of talking about this. “But not all Korvenites are murderous terrorists Honaa. The way they are treated in those camps would —.”
“I know enough about Korvenitesss to realize they possse a continued threat to thisss Union. And given how much they have taken from Earth humansss, so should you!” Honaa irately slammed his tail onto the ferroment pathway, scaring the daylights out of a young UComm officer passing nearby.