Jackal shrugged, holding a small ice pack to his nose. “Okay. So, say he is an alpha. So what? It’s not like they don’t go rogue.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still holding his beer bottle. He hovered over the seat, pressing a heel into the desk to stay in place. “That still doesn’t explain why we weren’t targeted.”
“We weren’t his targets because we aren’t part of Apex. We’re part of the Federation. Why would the Black Wolves attack us if we aren’t even associated with them?”
“We’re witnesses, Arty! You damn well know they don’t leave survivors. The aftermath is the only thing the media catches.”
“Well, maybe she does---”
“No!” Jackal sat straight up. “Damn it, Art!” He hit his palm to the desk, let the bottle float away, held the edge of the desk. “You fuckin’ promised! You fuckin’ promised!” He repeated the sentence until Reaper sat back in his chair. “I miss her, too. I really do.” He put his hand to his chest. “She ain’t comin’ back, Cap’. You gotta let her go.”
“I’m going to call her.” Reaper said abruptly.
“No!’ Jackal tried to restrain the Captain’s hand from hitting the comm button, but it was too late. “She isn’t going to answer. There’s no way she still has that link. If she’s still out there, you’d only put her in danger. It’s not encrypted!”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know any of it.” He hit a few of the holo-buttons.
Jackal sighed. Snatched up his beer before it got too far. Finished with it. A boot to the desk pushed him backwards, away from Reaper. “I’m not sittin’ here to watch you kill yourself. You haven’t been able to contact her in three years. All you’re going to do is reopen old wounds.”
Reaper said nothing. He did not even make eye contact. Deep inside he knew Jackal was right, but he was not the type to give up. She was out there still, he could feel it.
Jackal left. He meant what he said. He missed her too, and he understood why Reaper was so desperate to contact her. That poor man was still in love with her. He needed to let her go. She was never coming back. She had her own mission and refused to let them help her. So, she disappeared into the vast expanse of space. Jackal recalled the last time they saw her. They stopped for shore leave at Solstice and went for drinks. They saw her sitting at the bar alone. She was gone by the end of the night and they never saw her again. Reaper went back to that bar every night for three months. Eventually they had to leave Solstice.
Jackal tossed the empty beer bottle into the nearest trash can. He pulled himself along the wall, going nowhere fast.
“Smells like alcohol and salt.” Came a voice from behind him. Thick and scratchy. “Strange combination for drinking. Unless…”
Jackal turned around to see Mjolnir towering over him. The cat sniffed at the air, nostrils flaring. He ran his claws through his beard, gently brushing over the braids. He floated haplessly, allowing himself to invert.
“Y’know that never gets less creepy.” Jackal said.
“I can’t help that we ardrizi have better olfactories than humans!” He grinned, showing off yellow stained flesh tearing teeth. “I cannot imagine you’ve been licking a salt block and drinking beer. Why are you... what’s the word for it? Sad?”
There was no hiding from that. Jackal trusted him enough. He was one of the best soldiers on the ship.
“It’s the captain.” He said. They glided down the hall together, passing by a few others headed the other way. “He’s still beating himself up about the breakup.”
“Ah.” Mjolnir nodded. “The one that got away. It is hard to accept the loss, especially when one fights so hard just to lose.”
“It was three years ago.” Jackal sighed.
“She must have been one hell of a warrior.”
“She was.” Jackal huffed. “Saved our asses more times than I could count.”
“Perhaps instead of beer, you can drown out the sorrows with your fists. Come Lieutenant, I could use a good brawl!”
That was Mjolnir. Big, fluffy, lovable. He looked intimidating as a tusked, eleven foot tall tiger could. Yet when his loyalty was earned, he was the type of man who would give the shirt off his back without so much as a thought.
Jackal declined. He would rather head to a simulator for firearm training.
Mjolnir grumbled. He enjoyed his time on the Syndicate, but he was the only of his kind. Ardrizi were still working on a relationship with humans. Most of them worked as mercenaries, but Mjolnir actually joined the Federation. The humans kicked ass against the eldiravan and he wanted to see them in action himself. He wasn’t disappointed. Humans were a well-rounded species. They preferred the diplomatic way until it no longer worked. War was another tool, and they knew the tool well.
Being the only ardrizi on the ship was lonely. Mjolnir struggled with keeping his prowess up to par. Humans were frail compared to him. He had to hold back to avoid hurting them badly. Most were afraid of getting physical with him. Afraid of any confrontation.
Mjolnir headed to the training room. On the wrestling mat was Sparrow and Ruby. The latter of which swung away against the smaller woman’s defense. He was in the lead, pushing her to the edge of the mat. He let up, believing he had won, but Sparrow went in for a full body tackle.
She was big for a girl, good height, good weight, the ferocity of a soldier fighting for his life. She brought Ruby to the floor and sat on top of him. She gave him a punch to the side of the head and held him down.
The sparring mat came in two parts. A floor and a ceiling. Electromagnetism kept those on the mat on the ground by way of a flexible metal sock that fit over shoes.
Ruby started laughing. He lay there beneath her, hazel eyes gazing up to her. He took the loss with grace.
“Guess I win again!” Sparrow cheered, throwing both fists into the air.
Mjolnir clapped, tail flicking.
Both fighters looked up.
“Mjolnir!” Sparrow jumped and ran up to the big cat man. “You saw that, huh?”
“Impressive!” Mjolnir grinned. “Next time you should try dodging instead of taking those hits.”
“You’re talking to a steel wall there, Mjolnir.” Ruby sat up. “You know there’s no telling her what to do.”
Mjolnir crossed his arms. An ear folded backwards. “Perhaps you cannot, but we all know she takes advice.”
“Pfft! Not from an old cat! You’re too cute and fluffy.” She pinched at his cheeks.
Mjolnir grumbled and pulled back. A flick of his ears and he grinned again. “Cute and fluffy? Perhaps I am fluffy, but I am too scarred to be cute!” He poked her forehead with a claw. “Unlike you little humans. You’re all adorable with your guns and armors, acting like kings and queens, but you’re just as frail as a fleebeeron.”
“Don’t fleebeeron lack bones?” Ruby chimed in. He wiped his face dry with a towel and sat down on a bench.
Mjolnir chuckled to himself.
“Okay. Okay.” Sparrow raised a hand. “I’ll show you boneless!” She stepped onto the mat.
“Oh, ho, I’m sure you will!”
Mjolnir took it easy on her. It was good practice for self-control. He let her swing and hit him multiple times before deflecting and countering. He didn’t budge, but when he attacked, she stepped backwards to the edge of the mat. The only thing she could do was to knock him down by hitting him in weak spots; joints, such as the back of the knees, elbows, collar, neck. Yet his muscles were nearly hard as a rock, and Sparrow was not nearly strong enough to force his arm or leg to bend. She might as well have been hitting a brick wall.
Ruby sat back, drinking from a bottle of water. He gave a soft cheer whenever Sparrow landed a good hit or made a good dodge.
“Yeah, get him, baby!” He shouted.
By the end of the few minutes, Mjolnir had Sparrow on the floor. His foot on her chest and nearly no weight on her at all. She couldn’t sit up. Panting, she lay there with a smile.
Mjolnir grinned, remo
ved his foot and gave her a hand back to her feet.
“You are getting better, little birdie.”
“Maybe one day I’ll be as good as you.” She brushed loose strands of her hair back into place.
Mjolnir laughed. “If you become an ardrizi, that would be the day!”
THREE
"Sir, I'm getting a signal in." Irzazee said from his console. He was a humanoid figure in a wetsuit, with small reinforced plating here and there and a large hump on his back like that of a sea shell curled into itself. Each breath he took could be heard through a respirator, water rushing through the tubing. It was clear his voice was computer generated.
"It seems there is a colony under siege from a fleet of pirates." He continued. "They are in need of supplies, but the pirates are raiding any ships that get within the vicinity and refusing to return the cargo to the rightful owners." He then added in quickly, "they are two light years away."
"Ah... that's typical." Reaper sighed. He was sitting a little higher than the others, towards the back of the bridge. He scratched his cheek. "Well, I suppose it'll be a chance to stretch our legs. Set course for that colony, we'll take care of the problem and share some of our cargo."
"Yes, sir. Setting course for Raasheen. I will start the automatic pod preparation for the jump while we approach the relay."
"Go ahead and send out the call for everyone to prepare. Let's make it as smooth as possible." Reaper leaned back. "Everyone, but Willis and Irzazee get ready."
Everyone got up and headed out. The speakers crackled with a robotic voice calling for everyone to prepare themselves and meet in their designated pod rooms. All the lights in the ship changed from fluorescent white to a deep yellow. Some lights along the floor flashed, pointed toward the pods.
It was routine. All occupants of the Syndicate had been through it before, save for a few of the youngest. Everyone was calm, chatting among themselves as they walked through the halls, locked and secured all of their loose objects.
It would take hours to get everyone in their personal pods. Luckily, they had plenty of time until they reached the relay.
Jump pods were located around the center of the ship, surrounding the core. They were stacked upon a pillar surrounded by a protective shell in case debris pelted the ship. It was the safest location on the ship, even safer than the bridge. Nine pods were circled around the pillar, which acted as an elevator for each row. About five feet stood between each row, just enough for the pods to open without making contact.
As everyone lined up to get into the pods, cell leaders made final checks for identity and vitals. Once someone was checked in, they were taken to an open pod. They sat down inside where sensors were adhered to their chest, neck, and head. These would monitor their vitals. A rebreather was placed over their nose and mouth and they laid down. Once the row was filled, the transparent doors gently swung down and locked into place.
The pods were pressurized from the nearby control panel. Air sped out from several valves. With an airtight seal, interior valves opened to give way to an icy cold liquid solution.
For the first timers, it was a scary moment. Even though they had endless oxygen in their masks, the idea of drowning inside of a metal cage was at the forefront of their minds. Some children actually screamed, but could only brave it out. The transparency of the doors faded to black, a screen projecting on the inside and outside of the door.
Inside showed what was happening to them, which theoretically calmed them down once they realized they were going to be okay. Outside showed their identity and vitals. If something were to go wrong, now would be the time.
Luckily, everything went smoothly. Everyone was loaded up and put into a temporary stasis. No officers were housed within the same row. In fact, officers were split as far apart as possible in case of a malfunction, accident, or otherwise any damage occurring to the pods that could result in death.
The last to get situated inside their pods were the cell leaders, Willis, Irzazee, and Reaper. First, the latter three were sealed inside. Then the cell leaders put themselves in, initiating computer control for the duration of the jump.
The relay was nearly a hundred times the size of the Syndicate. Shaped like the barrel, or rather cage, of a rail gun. Its own core wound up with pulses of electricity, much like solar flares. In such close proximity, the thunderous whirring could be heard and even felt vibrating through the ship. The blue light of the relay's core shined brighter and brighter until it turned white. Then the white light flashed down the length of its cage, turning the rest of the blue lights to match. Bolts of lightning ripped and bent outwards.
Like a laser, the light shot forward hundreds of meters in front of the relay. At the end of the beam, it rippled and stretched out in all directions. The Syndicate shook as if a world destroying earthquake was trembling through its chassis.
A tendril of the crackling lightning reached from the core to attach itself to the ship. It spread over, popping and cracking. The hole the beam created ahead darkened. The beam thinned, but a ring of white and blue lightning shimmered around the utter blackness of space.
The tendril attached to the ship bent backwards, then forwards before reeling back once more. The ship shifted with it, forced to move backwards before being launched forward, following the length of the barrel cage, then the thinned beam of light and into the shadow of space it created.
All exterior lights bent and warped into chaotic, colorful prismatic shapes as if the ship was flying through a shifting kaleidoscope. The ship vibrated wildly, flecks of light ricocheting off its electrical shield. White noise felt like a roar, capable of rupturing eardrums and shifting the way blood flowed.
In a matter of minutes. The Syndicate was spat out of a hole of white. The hole sucked itself in, seemingly imploding itself. Darkness washed over the ship. The shaking slowly calmed.
The Syndicate rattled. Bolts and panels vibrating like a massaging machine. The lights flashed red, indicating damage or danger.
The lights flashed green. Then white. They steadied. The computer started the wakeup call, setting the cell leaders free of their potential coffins.
The computer then set for all officer pods to open, which made the cell leaders rush around the chambers.
Thus far, all vitals were stable and normal. Nothing had gone wrong.
Reaper was one of the first out, taking a breath of fresh air. He sat on the edge of his pod. No one enjoyed jumping. Sealed inside of a coffin, submerged in icy water. Breathing through a respirator that smelled like bleach. They slept through it all, but the claustrophobia and helplessness drifted through. Their bodies were jarred from the extreme speed to a sudden stop. Plenty came out puking their lunches up.
Others were not so lucky. Cell leaders and able medics carted those suffering from hyporexia to the medical bay. With some treatment, they would be up and moving by morning. The others had to get back to work.
Engineers rushed to return to their posts and diagnose any issues that could have cropped up from the jump. Soldiers escorted civilians and kept an eye out for any late blooms of jump sickness.
Just like that, everything was back to normal.
Reaper followed the crowd, broke off down a less busy hall. He wanted to try another call, but he had duties. He pushed the thought of his runaway lover out of his mind. There were pirates afoot, and he needed to find them.
Willis was already at the pilot's seat on the bridge, running checks.
"Good to see you up and walking." Willis smiled.
Reaper waved his hand, slumping down into his seat. A foot hooked into the lower bar.
"You feeling alright, Cap?" He did not even give him a chance to respond. "I always feel pretty stiff after a jump. Only in one of those coffins for a few minutes, but it feels like years."
"Yeah."
"Everything's good. Ship's ready."
"Where's your partner?"
"Medbay. Bad case of hyporexia." He spun in the chair. "Irzazee's
suit malfunctioned in the pod. So, he's out, too."
Reaper took a breath, checked the faux window ahead for any visible threats. They were down two members of the bridge. No gunner. No navigator. The others were just making their way to their seats.
"Looks like you'll have to gun and drive. Up to it?"
"Yes, sir!" Willis spun in the chair to face the console. A few switches and buttons. "I'm green."
"Approach the planet. They should come to us."
Willis pushed the throttle forward. They came in at a good pace, feigning an attempt to land or release a landing shuttle.
Right on cue, a ship appeared out of the blackness. They were at a distance, just out of range of the main cannons.
"There's a call, sir." Willis said.
"Patch it through."
Static filled the speakers. When it stopped, a shrill voice called out.
"Hello? Hello! Is this thing on?" Thump. "Goddammit! Why ain't this damned thing ever work?!" Thump. "Agh! Peter, get over here and fix this hunk of junk!"
More thumps and bangs followed. Static. A video finally came through on the small screens at each station. A foul mouth was uncomfortably close to the camera. Rotten teeth stuck outwards. Breath fogged the lens.
"It's on, boss."
"Is it? Oh. It is!" He backed up just enough for most of his dirt covered face to be seen. Middle-aged man who clearly had a hard life. Lean, but lacking any true strength.
"Hello there, you sneaky little thing!"
Reaper scratched at his cheek. He too had a camera on him so the other could see him. He was silent, watching, listening. For a moment, Reaper was debating his life choices. How the hell did he end up dealing with trash like this? This was clearly a man who never worked a day in his life. Got by as a bully. Talked a big game, but never backed it up. He wasn't even worth being called a pirate! Reaper wanted a bigger game than this. He wanted to fight something better.
"Hey! Can you hear me?!" The shrill voice hollered. "You better be listening to me, you rude son of a bitch! I want you to hand over a sizable payment. This here is a toll area, so you gotta pay up if you want to go any further."
The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) Page 2