by Ryk Brown
“I suspect Marcus is more likely to be interested than Josh and Loki,” the admiral commented. “He and Captain Taylor have never been on the best of terms.”
“That is the impression I had, as well,” Deliza agreed. “Then, I have your permission to contact them and offer them the positions?”
“You don’t need my permission to offer someone under my command a job opportunity,” the admiral said.
“Technically, no,” she agreed, “but you are my father’s oldest, and most trusted, friend. I felt obligated, out of respect, to seek your approval.”
“I appreciate the thought,” the admiral replied. “You have my approval.” The admiral lifted his glass and held it out in front of him. “To your father.”
* * *
Josh, Loki, and Marcus stood in the captain’s ready room onboard the Aurora, facing the captain.
“Not exactly how I wanted to start my command,” Cameron said as she rose from her seat. “Gentlemen, each of you have served this ship, and the Alliance in general, with distinction. While I didn’t always agree with your methods, I cannot dispute your results. Each of you volunteered. Each of you offered your life to support a cause that benefited not only yourself, but all of humanity. For that, you should be proud.” Cameron came out from behind her desk, moving first to Marcus. “Master Chief Taggart…” She paused a moment, leaning in closer. “Assuming that is your real name,” she added under her breath.
“It is, sir,” Marcus replied in a similar tone.
“No offense intended, Master Chief, but I can honestly say that you would have been the last person I would have chosen as chief of the boat.” Cameron reached out to shake Marcus’s hand.
“None taken, sir,” Marcus replied with a grin.
“So you can understand how surprised I am to find myself so disappointed to be losing you as my COB.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I trust you’ll keep these two in line?” she asked.
“You bet your ass…uh…sir.”
Cameron smiled. “Your request for transfer to Fleet Command on the Karuzara, for detachment-from-service processing, is hereby approved. Good luck to you, Master Chief.”
“Thank you, sir,” Marcus replied, offering his best military salute.
“Dismissed, Master Chief,” she replied, returning his salute. She stepped to her right, moving in front of Loki. “Ensign Sheehan,” she continued, as Marcus stepped back and left the compartment. “You are a pilot after my own heart. Methodical, precise, and procedural, but able to quickly adapt to changing demands. You will be sorely missed.” She paused a moment. “You know, you would have made a good ship’s captain, someday.”
Loki looked genuinely surprised by her praise. “Thank you, Captain.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine in whatever you choose to do.” Cameron glanced at Josh. “Just don’t let this guy get you into too much trouble.”
“I’ll try, sir,” Loki replied, smiling.
Cameron shook Loki’s hand, then stepped back. “Your request for transfer to Fleet Command on the Karuzara, for detachment-from-service processing, is hereby approved. Good luck to you, Ensign.”
“Thank you, sir,” Loki replied, saluting her.
“Dismissed, Ensign,” she replied, returning his salute.
Loki glanced at Josh, then stepped back, turned, and left the compartment.
“Ensign Hayes,” Cameron continued as she stepped to her right, then leaned back against her desk, crossing her arms. “You know, you’re about tied with Master Chief Taggart in the least likely choice department.”
“Must’ve been my upbringing,” Josh quipped.
“Luckily for you, your uncanny skill as a pilot has kept you and Loki alive, despite your rash decision-making, and your generally arrogant attitude.”
Josh’s mouth twisted to one side, unsure of how to respond.
“However, you have managed to pull off more than one impossible act, just when they were needed. The most surprising of which was passing your exams and earning your commission.”
“I couldn’t have done it…any of it…without Loki, sir.”
“Knowing that is most important, Ensign. Always remember that you never fly alone. Even if you are alone in that cockpit, it takes a lot of people to get you there each time.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try to remember that.”
Cameron sighed. “He really liked you, Josh.”
“Sir?”
“Nathan,” she replied, melancholy creeping into her voice. “You two are a lot alike.”
“Thank you, sir. I take that as a great compliment.”
“You should,” she insisted. “He saw greatness in you. Something that took me a lot longer to notice.” She paused another moment, reminiscing. After sighing again, she continued. “Just see to it that you live up to his expectations…understand?”
“I will, sir,” Josh replied earnestly. “I promise.”
Cameron stood up straight again, shaking off her remorse. “You, too, shall be sorely missed, Ensign Hayes,” she said, shaking his hand. “Your request for transfer to Fleet Command on the Karuzara, for detachment-from-service processing, is hereby approved. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Josh replied. He stepped back and offered a salute.
“Dismissed, Ensign,” she said, returning his salute.
Josh stepped back and turned toward the exit.
“Josh,” Cameron called after him.
Josh turned back around. “Yes, sir?”
“It’s a different kind of flying you’ll be doing. Put the safety of your passengers and crew first…always.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cameron smiled. “Good luck to you, Josh. I hope our paths cross again, someday.”
“I hope so too, Captain,” he said, with his usual impish grin.
Cameron watched as Josh turned and exited the compartment. With Naralena having resigned the day before Cameron had taken command of the Aurora, Josh and the others were the last of those who had joined the Aurora’s crew after their escape from Haven nearly two years ago.
She had once been part of a group of four. Four close friends. Comrades who had served together, struggled together, fought side by side. They had managed to accomplish great things…together. Now, only she and Vladimir were left. It would never be the same again, but it was what it was, and there was nothing she could do to bring them all back.
* * *
Armin stood with thousands of others on Nor-Patri, watching the trial of Nathan Scott on one of the dozens of video monitors that had been erected around the exterior of the judicial complex. He had traveled to the capital to witness the historic trial in person, but like everyone else, found himself stuck watching from outside.
In concert with those around him, Armin grumbled about how he could have watched from the comfort of his own home, had he known better. And about how the powers that be could have used a larger arena for the trial. After all, the trial itself was nothing more than an exhibition. The citizens of the empire were well aware of this, for the Jung leadership castes had long been masters of propaganda. It was unfortunate, to say the least, that this strategy remained so effective. So dumbed-down were the masses that they would believe any half-truth that their leaders spewed, as long as it agreed with their own sentiments.
Better a reassuring lie, than a worrying truth. Armin could remember his father’s words as if they had been spoken only yesterday. From time to time, he wondered how his father was doing. Armin had not seen him since he was drafted more than a decade ago. He had heard rumors that their homeworld of Pora-Dubay had been hit by a fierce solar storm some years ago, yet he was never able to confirm this. He had tried, at the time, to send word to his father—a feat that required considerable e
ffort while serving aboard a Jung battleship. Unfortunately, he had never received a reply, which meant that either his message was never sent, or that the reply never made it back to him… Or worse.
Armin had chosen to believe that the reply had never found him. Such was the nature of the Jung interstellar communications network. Slow and unreliable for the masses, and only marginally better for the military. It was for this reason that ships’ captains and planetary governors were given so much leeway in day-to-day decisions and policy making. Without such authority, nothing would ever get done. The downside of this system was that so many captains and governors became dictators. This had been the reason Armin and the others jumped ship and escaped to Kohara less than a year after Armin’s failed attempt to contact his father.
Someday, Armin would try to contact his father again, hopefully in person. Not just to learn of his fate, but also to let his only blood relative know that he was still alive and well, all things considered.
For now, however, he would have to be content living as Osa Moren, the identity he had taken from the hapless soul who had been unlucky enough to meet with Armin shortly after his arrival on Nor-Patri. Armin wondered if the others of his group felt as guilty as he had, for taking the life of an innocent man. He had no doubts that Reto had none. The man was as ruthless as they came. Armin both envied and despised Reto for that quality. He constantly reminded himself that Osa’s sacrifice served a greater purpose, one that would benefit all of humanity. But that was the same rhetoric constantly used by the Jung propaganda machine to justify its actions, up to and including what the Jung referred to as the cleansing of an entire world.
Armin had always known such cleansings were horrific acts of incomparable violence. But he, too, had dismissed them as necessary, just as his leaders had instructed. It wasn’t until he had witnessed the effect such a cleansing had on the people of that world, first hand, that he had realized what it truly was… An act of complete barbarism.
It was for this reason Armin had volunteered for this mission. He knew full well that he would likely be stranded on Nor-Patri for the rest of his days, and that was only if he was lucky enough to not be caught and executed as a deserter, a spy, and a traitor to the empire.
At least he had a specific mission. The others had simply been assigned to monitor events and communicate them out into the cosmos for collection by Alliance recon jump drones.
Armin reached into his pocket and pulled out his personal communications unit, holding it up in the air to record events, like half of the attendees. Only he was focusing his unit’s unique sensors to detect something else: Corinairan nanites. More specifically, the movements, locations, and times of the host carrying those unique nanites. He only hoped the Jung had not yet managed to flush them from the young captain’s body.
* * *
Loki let out a long, low whistle as he, Josh, and Marcus had their first serious look at the exterior of the Mirai. “I can’t believe this is going to be our ship,” he mumbled.
Josh cast a cockeyed, sidelong glance at his friend. “It’s not gonna be our ship, Lok. It belongs to princess perfect, remember?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Technically, it belongs to Captain Suvan Navarro,” a voice corrected them from behind.
All three of them turned at once to find a middle-aged sergeant sporting the uniform of the Avendahl in her new, independent state.
“You must be our replacements,” the sergeant surmised, with a disapproving raise of one eyebrow. He looked the three of them over. His sour expression remained unchanged. “Sergeant Mikel Isan of the Avendahl, chief steward of the Mirai. If you have completed your gawking, I have been instructed by Lieutenant Chandler to give you a thorough tour of the Mirai.”
“Who’s Lieutenant Chandler?” Josh wondered aloud.
This time, it was Loki who gave Josh a dirty look.
“Lieutenant Chandler is the Mirai’s commanding officer, and chief pilot. He is the one who will be training the two of you how to fly,” the sergeant added, looking even more annoyed than before.
“We already know how to fly, Sergeant,” Josh snapped back. “We just need your lieutenant to review your SOPs with us, after which we’ll drop you and yours off on the Avendahl and be on our merry way.”
Marcus and Loki both stood silently, waiting for the Takaran sergeant to respond in kind to Josh’s declaration.
The sergeant did not. “After our initial walk-around inspection, we will enter via the aft cargo ramp, working our way forward, slowly, as I point out the location of all primary and emergency systems,” the sergeant continued. “We will work our way forward, combing through each and every accessible compartment, until we reach the cockpit. Then, and only then, will the lieutenant review the Mirai’s standard operating procedures with you.”
“And how long will all this take?” Josh asked, looking skeptical.
“Several hours, at least,” the sergeant replied, unwavering.
“I thought we were going for a training hop today,” Loki said.
“Once we have completed the tour, and the lieutenant has reviewed the ship’s operating procedures…yes.”
“It’ll be dinner time by then,” Josh protested.
“We have a fully stocked galley,” the sergeant assured them. “I will be more than happy to provide you with snacks, should your youthful metabolism require them in order to complete the day’s tasks.”
Josh knew an insult when he heard it, and he had detected several over the last few minutes. “Listen, Sergeant…”
“That would be appreciated,” Marcus interrupted quickly.
“Gentlemen,” the sergeant said, gesturing toward the stern of the ship. “Shall we begin?”
Josh scowled at the sergeant, as Loki pushed him forward.
“Pilots,” Marcus said dismissively, attempting to smooth the Takaran sergeant’s ruffled feathers. “A bunch of arrogant little shits, on a good day.”
The sergeant looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raising once again at Marcus’s sudden camaraderie. “Yes.”
“Listen, Mike,” Marcus continued, putting his arm around the sergeant and leading him toward the center of the Mirai.
“Mikel,” the sergeant corrected, emphasizing the proper pronunciation of his name.
“Right. I’m sure you and your crew want to get back to the Avendahl as soon as possible, and Navarro’s message did request that you return as soon as possible. So why don’t we streamline this process a bit.”
“Lieutenant Chandler’s instructions specifically stated…”
“Chandler’s a noble, right?” Marcus interrupted. “And we all know how much nobles like to tell those of us who know what to do, what to do. So, how’s about we let Itchy and Twitchy familiarize themselves with the Mirai’s flight systems, while you give me the grand, detailed tour. After all, I am the one who is going to be responsible for everything aft of the cockpit, right?”
The sergeant hesitated. “That would be highly irregular. Besides, the Mirai is a complex…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sure she’s a piece of work, she is,” Marcus agreed, placating the sergeant. “But your efforts will be lost on those two, trust me. Hell, they wouldn’t know a power circuit from a control line. They’re pilots!”
“But, how are they going to fly the Mirai, if they don’t have full knowledge of all her systems?”
“They’ll figure it out, trust me,” Marcus insisted. “Between you and me—and I’ll never admit saying this, especially not to the kid—those are two of the best pilots you’ll ever find.”
The sergeant looked over at Josh and Loki, who were currently inspecting the Mirai’s forward docking thruster ports. “I am aware of their reputation, and of their accomplishments during their service. I have to admit, it is impressive
.”
“Exactly. In fact, I’d bet my ass they could fly this thing right now, without missing a beat. And if you knew how little I trust any pilot, you’d understand what a ringing endorsement that really is.”
Sergeant Isan thought for a moment, watching Josh and Loki as they continued their inspection of the Mirai’s external systems. He could tell by the two pilots’ movements and the way they touched and checked each control service, thruster, and sensor, that they were no strangers to such spacecraft. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “I cannot promise that the lieutenant will agree to this, but I will do as you ask,” the sergeant acquiesced. “But I warn you, you had better impress me with your understanding of this ship, or I will not sign off on any of you.”
“Fair enough,” Marcus agreed, leading him toward the Mirai’s port engine nacelle. “Why don’t we start with your mains, Mikel?”
* * *
Reto had not been told why, only that he was to scan the residential compounds of as many higher ranking members of the Jung warrior castes as possible. It was a dangerous mission, far more so than simply monitoring general events and broadcasting them covertly into space, but Reto did not mind. He had been honored when Commander Telles took him aside just before departure, and given him this special assignment.
Reto liked to believe that the purpose of his mission was to identify the locations of all the command-level officers, so that the Alliance could take them all out with precision jump weapons. But he knew no such weapons existed in the Alliance arsenal.
Reto continued to stroll down the street, looking at the various homes. Nor-Patri was unlike any world he had ever visited, and very different from both Earth and Kohara, the only other worlds he had ever spent time on. Reto had been born into a labor-caste family on Nor-Patri. Such castes had no special status in the Jung caste structure. They were given their due respect for their contributions to the empire, but not the social standing enjoyed by the leadership and warrior castes. Reto himself had once been a member of the labor movement, demanding the same opportunities as the other, more prominent, castes. Like so many others who had voiced their dissent, he had found himself drafted into service. Ironically, his efforts to move a mid-level caste into a more prominent level had, in a roundabout fashion, gotten him here. Now, he was once again fighting to change the nine hundred year-old Jung Empire. Only the change he was now hoping for would be far greater.