by Charles Nall
“That may be right. Don't worry, I have talked to the captain. He is considering lightening the load. He is determined to whip us into fighting shape. After all, we haven't been in a real starfight in, I don't know, a year?
“The uprising of Epsilon.”
“We're out of practice.”
“Captain Oshiro has been acting strange lately.”
“He is just following orders.”
“I'm the communications officer, I've relayed some of the non-sensitive commands to him. It doesn't describe working us like animals, respectfully, sir.”
“I suppose he just feels that everyone needs to be in shape.” Tsukino eyed his aquarium. “There's blood in the water. Souran and now Kurosawa. How much more blood will be shed before the sharks are attracted? We have to make sure we're ready for the sharks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We'll get the crew some rest. The captain has to see the merits in that. He needs rest himself. He is working himself too hard. I know what you mean, he is different lately. But this whole galaxy is different now. It will never be the same.”
February 6, 0270 AC - 18:45
Sickbay, USS Freedom
Orbiting Artemis, Galactic Union Space
Medical Officer Lieutenant Ashara Cinderflake looked at an X-ray sheet of one of the crew members. She compared it to another X-ray pinned to the wall. Cinderflake tucked some strands of her black hair back behind her right ear. Her olive skin glowed in the bright light of the sickbay.
“Looks like it stopped spreading, that's good news,” said Lieutenant Cinderflake. “And how can I help you, Commander?”
Commander Sera Freeman stepped out from behind a privacy curtain. “Sorry to bother you.”
“It's no bother. Today has been a good day, I suppose it's time to have the commander darken my day. I'm kidding of course, how are you?” Cinderflake asked.
Freeman eyed the X-ray pinned to the wall. “I'm fine. Is that Skyrift's X-ray? I'm one of the few people on this ship that know about her condition.”
Cinderflake nodded. “Yes. The cancer treatments are working for the time being.”
“That is good to hear. I'm glad the treatments are working. I think there may be another illness on the ship. The captain needs to be checked out, he's not acting like himself lately.”
“I have been pushing him for a check-up.”
“He seems to be stressed. I blame the admiral.”
Cinderflake pinned the other X-ray to the wall. “I figured as much. Captain Devereaux had a physical a few weeks ago and everything was completely normal. He's not required to have another one for a few months. It's really a personal choice for him now.”
“If he refuses to get checked up and does something foolish I could relieve him of his command. I can cite the Articles of Galactic Command–”
“It's not to that point yet. You don't have to go that far.”
“If he is not fit for command, I need to step up. We can't let him make any bad calls if something happens on the 8th.”
“I know.”
“Please keep asking him to come in. I’m seriously considering relieving him of command if he does not. Keep this between us, please.”
“Of course.”
“He made a pass on me. I thought those days were behind us. He was the one that put an end to the relationship, he knew it wouldn't be for the best.”
“That is highly unusual, but these are unusual times, perhaps he is lonely and thinks he made a past mistake.”
“He knows about my current relationship.”
Cinderflake nodded. “Yes, I know. He probably didn't mean anything harmful, though. I will keep trying to get him to come in for another physical, but I think you have nothing to worry about. He's been in command of this ship for years–I don't think he'll crack under pressure now after all this time. Things will be fine. I'm worried but I don't think he'll do anything out of character.”
“I have always trusted your judgment, Lieutenant, perhaps everything is fine,” Freeman said.
“I would keep watching him, though. I think he's under stress, but I could be wrong. Don't hesitate to do something you feel is right,” Cinderflake said.
“I understand. But I think you are right, I'm just stressed out too a little bit as well, honestly. I just don't trust the admiral at all and it sickens me he is on my ship. I'll let you get back to working. Thanks for the chat, Lieutenant. I'm just being too pessimistic. Everything is fine.”
February 7, 0270 AC - 09:30
Captain's Quarters, USS Freedom
Orbiting Artemis, Galactic Union Space
“Everything is not fine!”
“This doesn't change anything.”
“Of course it does!” Devereaux shouted to Akeldamas. “They could figure out the hyper-drive saturation controls are faulty. They'll either fix it or just cancel the launch. There's not enough people to launch anyways. Only four thousand four hundred and nine have signed up.”
“It's enough,” Akeldamas assured.
“Still not your targeted five thousand, is it? I'm fine with them canceling the launch, but you are determined to let this tragedy unfold. We cannot be discovered.”
“It's a quick inspection. Fate is on our side. No one will check the hyper-drive that closely.”
“I don't believe in fate,” Devereaux stated.
“Which is intriguing considering your fate is quite literally controlled right now,” Akeldamas said.
Devereaux stood up in frustration and walked over to a table that had a model of a sea-faring ship with a jolly roger. Devereaux kept his back toward the admiral.
“Ah. The sea. There's a certain romance about swashbuckling on the high seas,” Akeldamas said.
“Most of those old stories are embellishments. There's no romance to scurvy and theft. I wonder what tales we will spawn with our act of murder. How will it be embellished?”
Akeldamas roared, “History is written by the victor. The tale will be told to little children in their beds. 'Oh tell the one about Bradley and John again! They were so brave.'”
Devereaux bowed his head. “Will the children know that John was forced to do these terrible deeds?”
“Oh, but that's where you are wrong. You are forced to do wonderful things. Things that are necessary.”
“I'm not sure how anyone could spin mass murder into something pleasant to tell children.”
“Most nursery rhymes and children stories aren't pleasant in the least when you really look at them. The universe itself is a dark place. We're the light.”
“The light that blinds and burns.”
“But illuminates the darkness. On planets, the light from the star facilitates life. The same star that causes the crops to grow can give someone cancer. The light gives life and takes it away.”
“My life has been taken away,” Devereaux said in a depressing tone.
“All part of fate. This is the path to the salvation of the universe. I know you are in pain, but we must persevere. They won't find anything wrong with Exodus. It will launch and be destroyed. We will be one step closer to victory. Beyond that, I have received word that the little worm Jacob Carpenter has signed up for Exodus. He'll finally be destroyed. Sharon Rose Turner also signed up, I'm sure Jerry Turner will be quite thrilled that he will be killing his own daughter. It's morbidly amusing.”
Devereaux turned back to Akeldamas. “Jacob Carpenter. You mentioned him before. Why are you wanting to kill him?”
Akeldamas growled, “He deserves it! He's the number one criminal in the universe by a significant margin. My lord will not allow me to use our resources to kill him. He says it is not worth the time or resources because ultimately it will not matter. If I can't have the chance of orchestrating the murder of Carpenter directly, at least I had something to do with Exodus. At least the master will see that Carpenter is dead and that he was wrong to question me all this time.”
“You should trust your lord,” Devereaux said
as he straightened the jolly roger on the pirate ship.
“I barely do,” fumed Akeldamas, “I do not have blind trust. He irritates me. He is arrogant.”
Devereaux walked back toward his desk. “Speak for yourself.”
“I do not particularly like our master. I follow him, but I think he is hiding something. But when he came to me I saw that he was right. I saw that he would be on the winning side of the conflict. I'm the most important part of our contingent within the Union. If I continue my duties I deserve an extreme amount of power in the new order. Even more power if Carpenter is annihilated,” Akeldamas said.
“You are full of yourself. I'm not sure the master would like the fact you are insulting him.”
Akeldamas chuckled. “No, probably not. But it's not like he'll do anything. And how will he find out? Through you? You are my lackey without a brain of your own. In the end, I didn't do anything treasonous here. I am not jeopardizing the plan just because I am annoyed sometimes at our lord's thick skull. He knows he can't get rid of me, though. He needs me.”
Devereaux sat back down. “You can easily be replaced, perhaps even by me.”
Akeldamas laughed. “Oh! That's great. Even if something happened to me you would not be my successor. Your condition makes you weak. It's been days now and you still wrestle with it. Just accept your new fate. Your command staff already notices you aren't yourself. Luckily, it's not to the point where I think anything will be done about it. You can't take my place. It is too sensitive and too high-priority. Besides, you were weak to begin with. You cannot compare to me.”
Devereaux stared at Akeldamas in anger. Blood started to trickle down his face. “Pride cometh before a fall.”
“I will bid you farewell, my friend. You are bleeding a bit, you should attend to those matters. Be thankful I recruited you to the winning side. Don't make me regret my decision. I have no problem throwing you back into the darkness. I will become the right hand of the master. The entire galaxy will know my name and shudder when they hear it. You? You will be a footnote on the story of our conquest. Enjoy the rest of your miserable existence.”
Akeldamas walked over to the model of the pirate ship and knocked it onto the floor, shattering it into thousands of pieces. He looked back toward the bleeding Devereaux. “An allusion to Exodus and to you.” Akeldamas exited the quarters.
“No. An allusion to your fall,” Devereaux said as wiped some blood off his face with his hand. “Computer, give me NEP access. Channel 892, Empire-6 Delta Charlie Zero, black priority 27.”
February 7, 0270 AC - 10:02
Outside CFS Iriguchi
Edge of Confederate Space
“I still don't why I'm piloting this Kitsune,” said Lieutenant Riko Maeda from her fighter’s cockpit.
“You are a great fighter pilot. Iriguchi doesn't have a large fighter force, and most of our pilots are getting some much deserved 'rack time or running maneuvers with the crew of Yatagarasu. You can work the sensors like no one else, and this is important for today's mission,” replied Captain Tanari Oshiro over the fighter's voice link.
Riko Maeda’s Kitsune was flying over the top of the hypership Iriguchi with three other fighters. The Kitsune fighters were painted the blue and red of the Confederation. The sleek fighter's wings were sharp-edge triangles. The ion engines of the fighters burned blue.
“Yes, Captain, I've done my share of flying these birds, but I am much more comfortable in front of the comms console on board our ship, sir.”
Oshiro replied over the voice link in Riko's fighter, “Yes, yes, I know. We needed the four fighters for this test run and we needed a spare pilot. It just so happens you are great at reading sensor signatures as well. Has your fighter group set their sensors to appropriate frequencies as outlined in the mission briefing?”
“Yes, sir. All of our sensors are set up in different ways. You do know this screen is much smaller than the one I'm used to, right? And I don't usually wear a helmet.”
“It suits you. Are you worried it will mess up your hair?”
“Har, har, sir,” said Riko Maeda, clearly not amused.
“The instruments aboard the Kitsune should be adequate for our tests. You will be scanning hyperspace for any sort of hyperspace fluctuations. Do not raise shields. Please hold for further instructions. You'll hear from us soon about your next orders,” Oshiro said.
Riko tapped on her fighter's console. “Yes, sir. I'm still not sure what I'm looking for on my sensors.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Sir?” said a confused Riko Maeda.“What’s going on? Fighter group, are you getting any link transmissions from Iriguchi?”
A fighter pilot replied over the fighter link, “Sir, this is Blackwing, I'm not getting anything.”
Riko requested communication with the hypership Iriguchi, “Iriguchi, come in. Captain Oshiro, come in. I just lost link status with you. Iriguchi, please come in. Hello?”
A frustrated Riko looked out her cockpit window. Iriguchi was furling her sails. The large arrays with shimmering panels were folding to the sides of the ship.
“Are they going to jump?” asked a concerned fighter pilot over the link.
Riko continued, “Iriguchi, this is Kitsune-1, requesting a comm link. Please come in... This isn't funny.”
Space warped in front of the hypership.
“It's breaking into hyperspace, Lieutenant. Do we accompany the ship into hyperspace, sir?”
Riko was confused. “Orders said nothing about hyperspace. He told us not to raise shields and stay right here. We would have to raise shields to enter hyperspace, even with the Iriguchi's wake. I'm not sure.”
“They're gonna leave us...” said a pilot.
“I don't want to be abandoned. Fighter group, raise shields and accompany Iriguchi. Not sure why they want us out here and not landing before jumping,” Riko said.
Blackwing called over the link, “Lieutenant Maeda... Er, the hyper-conduit is... what? The hyper-drive is barely putting out a wake, sir, the distortion is extremely low. It's like they configured the hyper-drive to only allow hyperspace access to Iriguchi.”
Iriguchi fired a beam into the warping of space and then fired its engines. The ship jumped into hyperspace, leaving the fighter group behind.
Blackwing called out over the link to the fighter group, “No stable conduit is even left. There was hardly a wake at all. They configured it perfectly for that.”
“I don't understand. That's a lot of extra work. You only lower your wake output if you don't want any ships to follow you or to conserve power. We've got plenty of reactors in the hypership,” noted Riko.
“They left us behind!” called out another fighter pilot.
Riko checked her console. “Obviously not, that's ridiculous. They are coming back, I'm sure. Looks like they jumped toward Sol system. I suppose we just sit out here and wait.”
“In the middle of deep space?” Blackwing asked.
“Yes, wait in the middle of deep space. Keep your eyes on your instruments. We're on a mission.”
“They left us!”
“Don't lose your cool, Python.”
“I'll try not to, Lieutenant. Say, do you have a fighter call sign? We typically just use those call signs rather than our real names out here,” Python said.
“A few years back I flew with the fighter regiment for the battleship Osaka. I was picked on. They called me 'Runt' and that name stuck as my call sign. Eventually I decided I wanted to put my skills elsewhere. I love flying, but I wanted a change. A few promotions and tests later, I was the communications officer for Iriguchi. I was ecstatic when I got the transfer. The States only have a few hyperships. I felt honored. I always kind of missed being in a Kitsune, though. Even if this mission makes no sense, it does feel good being out here with you guys.”
“This is Badger, it's good to be out here with you as well. You need to get the captain to let you take these birds out for a spin wi
th us more often,” said another pilot over the link.
“I should do that. How hard has the captain been working the fighter regiment over the last few days?” Riko asked.
Badger laughed. “I'm surprised I can feel my legs. It's been brutal. But next week's schedule is much lighter. I was just too complacent with the typical drills. There's a war coming. We have to be ready, even if our legs hurt.”
Python spoke over the link, “There's no war coming. I don't know what's got into the captain, but it'd be suicide for anybody to attack the other. This is a waste of time.”
“I don't know, Python, there's been a lot of chatter about ships from both sides lining all along the neutral zone,” replied Blackwing.
“Those ships are just burning holes in the sky. I agree with Python, this is all a waste of time.”
“Waste of time, perhaps, but the captain has ordered us to do these tasks. He may be working us too hard but he knows what is best for our ship. He always has. We're going to get through this. If a war breaks out, god forbid, we're going to need to be ready for it. If there is a war, Iriguchi will be commanded to jump our ships toward the enemy. We need to be ready. Yes, I don't think a war is happening, but if there's even a tiny chance, I want to be ready.”
“Runt, if I can call you that, I hear you,” said Blackwing, “I think that's exactly what the captain believes. I think there is a war coming, but I would be glad if I was proven wrong.”
“No sense wasting fuel. Let's just equalize our thrusters until we're drifting and conserve our fuel.”
The Kitsune fighters held their position. They drifted against the darkness of space. Nebulas and star clusters painted the horizon. The fighter pilots continually checked their instruments for an hour.
“We've been out here a long time, Runt.”
“I know, Blackwing. Hold your position. They'll be back. Right? Honestly, I don't even know anymore.”
“Our ships only have about ten minutes of oxygen left,” noted Python.
“Well, I don't have any ideas,” Riko said.