by E. R. Torre
“That’s the most beautiful starship I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Becky said. “Not that I’ve seen all that many.”
“You will,” Cer said. “You will.”
Nox and Becky Waters spent several hours in the decompression chamber.
Their space suits protected them from most of the slipstream radiation and were quickly discarded. Afterwards, Becky Waters and Nox were given powerful medicines to combat any lingering effects from their exposure. Thanks to the medication and the nano-probes inside their bodies, they quickly recovered.
While they did, Cer and B’taav checked the Xendos and made sure it didn’t sustain any serious damage from the prolonged flight from Earth. The crack on the view screen glass and a few minor problems notwithstanding, it appeared all vital systems were functional.
With the checkup finished, they focused on where they were.
“The Displacer we emerged from is a Type 1,” Inquisitor Cer said.
The Displacer lay before the Xendos. It had considerable scarring yet her identification numbers were visible on her side.
“She’s Phaecian,” Inquisitor Cer continued. “Old. Real old. According to her serial numbers, she was part of the first generation of automated Displacers sent by us. She was thought lost over a thousand years ago. Her last communication was an emergency signal. She said she was hit by a meteor and her hull was compromised.”
“I don’t see any sign of meteor hits,” B’taav said. “Given her age, she looks pretty damned good.”
“There’s more,” Inquisitor Cer said. “When she sent that signal, she said she was over three hundred light years from here.”
“The ship faked her status?”
“Looks that way.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Inquisitor Cer said. “But she’s been right here ever since, waiting.”
“For us?”
There was no answer to that question.
At the end of the day Nox and Becky Waters were deemed sufficiently recovered to be freed from the decompression chamber. They joined Inquisitor Cer and B’taav in the cockpit.
“Where are we?” Becky Waters asked.
“In Phaecia,” Inquisitor Cer said.
“Are we near any habitable world?”
“We’re two light years away from a solar system. It contains three planets, one of which is habitable.”
“Are you familiar with the system?”
“No,” Inquisitor Cer said. “According to my records, we will be the first people from either Empire to explore this area. And yet…”
She pressed a button on the panel before him. A buzz came through the ship’s speakers.
“Hear that?”
“What is it?”
“A distress signal,” B’taav said. “It’s old, universal. It’s coming from that planet.”
“But if no one’s been here before, how is that possible?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should we answer?” Becky Waters asked.
“The signal’s been repeating for at least a thousand years,” B’taav said. “Whatever emergency they had I’m guessing is long over.”
“We were dropped here on purpose,” Inquisitor Cer said. She addressed Nox. “Has Spradlin any idea of why?”
“When I get the chance, I’ll ask him,” Nox said. “If he’s willing to talk.”
“In the meantime, we have to consider what exactly we’re going to do from this point on,” B’taav said.
“Can we still use this Displacer?”
“Yes,” B’taav said. “We could activate it right now and reach any number of well-populated inner worlds. Unfortunately, neither Inquisitor Cer nor I will be welcomed on any of them with open arms. As for you two, if either Empire finds out who you are and what you’ve got inside your bodies, there’ll be an army of people eager to get their hands on you. I doubt you’d want them to.”
“So for now we go that planet?”
“Yes. It’ll take us a week at full impulse to reach her.”
“Time enough to prepare,” Becky Waters said.
“Quite a bit of time,” Nox added.
Inquisitor Cer and B’taav eyed the monitor and, after a while, each other.
“It’ll also give us time to rest,” Nox said. “You have cabins in this craft, right?”
“Second level,” Inquisitor Cer said.
“Showers?”
“Yeah.”
“Excellent.”
Nox tapped Becky Waters on her shoulder. The two walked to the door leading out of the cockpit. Nox paused before exiting.
“B’taav?” she said.
The Independent eyed the Mechanic.
“Kiss her already.”
Nox stepped out of the cockpit, leaving the Inquisitor and the Independent alone.
EPILOGUE ONE
HELIOS – Deep Within the Phaecian Empire
The Cygnusa entered the orbit of Helios shortly after 1500 hours.
Merchant and repair scowls approached the craft and locked onto her body. A refueling ship emerged from a distant star base and neared the ship’s port side.
Other, smaller service vessels also approached, every one of them intent on doing their individual job.
After the second hour of orbit, a single shuttle craft emerged from the enormous ship’s landing bay. It passed the service vessels and descended into the atmosphere of Helios.
From there it made a straight line to the planet’s capitol.
“Overlord Emeritus, Inquisitor Raven has arrived.”
The chamber was large and bare. Her black walls had no windows to provide light nor any pictures to offer comfort. Overlord Emeritus, the senior most member of the Overlord staff, sat in his chair at the head of a large wooden table. The Overlord was gray and withered. His body was frail to the point when he walked, he did so with a noticeable limp. Yet his eyes, pale and green, were ever alert and displayed a feral intelligence.
The table he sat before was made from one of the largest, and last, of the planet’s Greenwood trees. This particular one was at least three thousand years old at the time she was cut down.
Overlord Emeritus checked the computer display before him, making notes where appropriate and crossing out items already dealt with. Finally, he reached the last item on his list.
He grabbed his communicator and pressed a button on it.
“Please send Inquisitor Raven in.”
Overlord Emeritus pale eyes were on the door leading into the room.
From it emerged Inquisitor Raven. The Inquisitor bowed.
“Your grace.”
Overlord Emeritus nodded, barely acknowledging the man’s arrival.
“Your mission was a failure,” the Overlord said. “Explain.”
Inquisitor Raven bowed a second time and said:
“I stationed the fleet along the Longshore Shipping Lanes, the last known location of the Xendos. We had the area surrounded.”
“Not well enough.”
“No,” Raven admitted. Despite his granite exterior, the old warrior shuddered. “We did not find the Xendos.”
“And?”
“We assume Inquisitor Cer is still alive and in hiding.”
“How did this happen?”
“I cannot explain, your excellence,” Raven said. “No ship entered or exited the Shipping Lanes without our knowledge. Yet she somehow escaped us.”
“Your report states you found human remains?”
“Yes sir. Those of Overlord Octo and his two guards.”
“There is no chance Inquisitor Cer’s remains might still be out there?”
“I wish that were the case, your Eminence,” Inquisitor Raven said. “But the debris we found was minimal. I’m certain Inquisitor Cer jettisoned it along with the three corpses to buy time.”
“You were not deceived, Raven?”
“No.”
“Not even for a moment?”
“No.”
&n
bsp; “You’re frustrated?”
“Yes.”
“Angry?”
“Yes.”
“You should be,” the Overlord said. “Inquisitor Cer made a fool not only of you, but of the Law and every one sworn to uphold it. Your failure is a mark of shame. Shame requires restitution.”
“Your Eminence—”
Overlord Emeritus pressed a button hidden in a panel on the side of the table. The wall behind him, black as the other three in the room, lit up and became transparent. Revealed was a room behind them. In it were a woman and her two young boys.
Inquisitor Raven’s wife and his sons.
Overlord Emeritus pressed another button and a pair of Inquisitors stationed themselves at either side of that room and between the mother and her children.
“In 5303, my predecessor was faced with a rebellion in the Pollox sector,” Overlord Emeritus said. “To quell the rebellion, he sent a fleet of ships under the command of his most trusted Inquisitor, Morre.”
“Sir—”
“Morre was a loyal servant to the Overlords and could be counted on for any job the Overlord asked, no matter what. Yet in the face of this rebellion, Inquisitor Morre faltered. You see, he was from the Pollox Sector and familiar with many of the people involved in this rebellion. With each passing day doubts grew regarding Inquisitor Morre’s… resolve.”
“Overlord Emeritus—”
“The Overlords brought Inquisitor Morre before them. They asked him why the rebellion had not yet been put down despite the overwhelming military forces at his disposal. Morre offered explanations. Excuses. He tried the Council’s patience. In the middle of the inquest, my predecessor brought Morre’s wife and children to the tribunal floor. Inquisitor Morre was told he would have one more chance to succeed where so far he failed. But his failure to this point required punishment. Morre was told to choose who among his immediate family would pay for his failure.”
Overlord Emeritus laid his hands on the table.
“Inquisitor Moore was stoic,” the elderly man continued. “He chose his wife and she was executed on the spot. When Morre returned to the Pollox sector, his resolve was strong. The rebellion was quelled in two days.”
Overlord Emeritus’ gaze settled on Inquisitor Raven.
“Who do you choose, Inquisitor?”
EPILOGUE TWO
After two days, all remaining Xendos repairs were completed. The ship floated among the stars, her engine running healthy.
Nox and Becky Waters kept mostly to themselves. Becky Waters spent time in the ship’s cockpit going over all the information she could about the rise of the Phaecian and Epsillon Empires as well as the technologies available in this new day and age. There was much to learn and, it was clear, she was only too eager to do so.
B’taav and Inquisitor Cer spent their free time in their quarters, laughing and talking and caressing. It was a new and welcome experience for both. Toward the evening of that second day, Inquisitor Cer fell asleep in B’taav’s arms.
The Independent gently pushed Inquisitor Cer aside before quietly rising from their cot. He dressed and exited the room.
B’taav found it eerie to walk the Xendos’ corridors in peace.
He made his way down to the crew cabins and silently walked past several doors, stopping before Nox’s room. He knocked on the panel beside the open door.
“Come in,” came his response.
B’taav stepped inside. Nox was in B’taav’s old room, the one he used while searching for the Argus. It had no window and was Spartan in its décor. Nox sat on what was now her bed. She held the computer tablet B’taav found in the desert truck back on Earth.
“You could have taken a room with a view,” B’taav said.
Nox pressed the tablet’s screen and set the device aside.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Two questions,” B’taav said. “Has Spradlin contacted you since we’ve arrived?”
“No,” Nox said. “He’s been unusually quiet. What’s your second question?”
B’taav pointed to the tablet.
“Back on Earth, in your desert truck, I accidentally turned that device on.”
A flash of anger appeared on Nox’s face.
“You were snooping on me?”
“It was an accident,” B’taav said. “I had –have– no interest in prying into your personal affairs.”
“Yet you did.”
“And I’m afraid I must do so once more. My second question is this: Who is the woman on that tablet?”
Nox allowed her anger to subside. She tapped the tablet’s monitor and the woman’s image appeared. She froze the playback.
“Her name is …was… Catherine Holland,” Nox said.
“She was special to you?”
“Very. Why do you care?”
“Because I know her,” B’taav said.
Nox’s mouth hung open.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.
“She’s alive, Nox.”
“That’s not possible,” Nox said. “She was sent on the arks thousands of years ago. She can’t—”
“She is,” B’taav said. “When I met her, she used a different name, but it is her.”
B’taav approached a computer panel beside Nox’s bed. He turned it on and pressed a few buttons. An image of a woman appeared on the computer’s monitor.
“She goes by the name Latitia,” B’taav said. “She’s an Independent.”
Nox stared at the image and read the data alongside it. It painted a picture of a ruthlessly efficient, even bloodthirsty, Independent.
“It can’t be,” Nox insisted. “She just looks like Catherine. It can’t actually be her.”
“Latitia got me to the Xendos and Inquisitor Cer, which in turn got us to Earth and to you,” B’taav said. “What are the odds that someone who looks this much like Catherine Holland would be the one to send me to get you?”
For several seconds both the Mechanic and Independent were silent. Finally, Nox removed her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes.
“We were sent to this part of the Phaecian Empire for a reason,” B’taav said. “Maybe we’ll find some answers here.”
“Maybe,” Nox repeated.
Despite herself, a single tear rolled down Nox’s cheek.
For now, neither could guess what lay before them.
For now, there would be no answers, only many, many questions.
For now.
THE END