by Ryk Brown
Had it not been the promise of one man—one who appeared to be the leader of her rescue party—she would have been certain that she had simply traded one prison for another. Seven plus hours later, she was starting to wonder if that might not be the case.
I will take you to your father.
Those words continued to sustain her, despite the fear and despair she saw in the faces of everyone around her. Their only accommodations in the dimly lit pod were a bottle of water and two nutrition bars each, and a portable toilet in each corner. It was chilly, and it smelled of sweat and tears. Two med-techs had come down from the hatch at the top of the cargo pod, and had cycled throughout the prisoners, checking for injuries or illness. Four Ghatazhak soldiers walked above them on catwalks that lined all four sides of the cargo pod, keeping an eye out for anyone who might cause a disturbance, and thereby jeopardize the safety of everyone.
Despite the breathable atmosphere, minimal amount of heat, and the weak but adequate gravity, one fact remained-they were all stuck in a giant box. One that offered minimal protection against the harsh environment of deep space, as they were jumped repeatedly across the galaxy, on their way to…someplace.
Again, as it had many times over the past seven hours, the cargo pod shook, the rumble of her maneuvering engines vibrating throughout the pod. Every time those engines fired, the people inside braced themselves. Once again, they felt the pod shift from one side to the other, twisting on its axis as the pod hauler that carried them changed course for perhaps the thousandth time.
But this time was different. The engines fired sporadically, with the rumble changing quickly from one corner of the pod to another, and then back again. This went on for several minutes, to the point where people around her began asking each other questions. Were they landing? Were they docking somewhere? Was this the end of their long, dismal journey? Would they see freedom when the doors opened, or would they see another captor?
All four corners of the pod rumbled in unison for a few seconds, after which there was a sharp sound of metal striking metal, shaking the entire pod, and the artificial gravity suddenly increased to what felt like normal gravity for Corinair.
They had landed!
Sori Gullen immediately rose to her feet in anticipation, just like everyone else. They could not have landed on a hospitable world, as their engines had not burned long enough, or at a high enough intensity. And they had not docked with another ship, either, for the metallic thud had come from all four of their landing gear, and not from a docking collar on one side.
Sori’s heart leapt into her throat. Her pulse raced, and her breath quickened. But nothing happened. As the passengers became restless, a voice came over the loudspeakers.
“Attention all passengers, this is your captain. We have just landed aboard the Glendanon. Please be patient as the Glendanon’s cargo bay is pressurized. We will begin disembarking as soon as possible.”
Sori couldn’t believe it. The Glendanon. Her father’s ship. Tears began to stream down her face.
A woman next to her noticed her tears and became concerned. “Don’t be afraid, dear. We’re safe now.”
“I’m not afraid,” Sori replied, a small laugh escaping her lips. “I’m happy. The Glendanon is my father’s ship.”
“Your father’s?” the woman asked.
“He’s the captain.”
The woman reached out and hugged Sori, sharing her joy. Ten minutes later, the door opened, and they all started down the pod’s massive cargo ramp.
Sori had been aboard the Glendanon once before, several years earlier, but she had never been inside her massive cargo bay. It was larger than anything she had ever seen. No building on Corinair was anywhere near as cavernous inside. The fact that it was part of an even larger ship seemed impossible to her.
On either side of the cargo ramp were more Ghatazhak troops, there to ensure an orderly transfer of passengers from the cargo pods to whatever location aboard the Glendanon they were to stay. She saw the other boxcar nearby, its passengers also walking down her cargo ramp. To her left was a cargo shuttle, out of which streamed a couple dozen Ghatazhak soldiers. Beyond the cargo shuttle, there were at least a dozen space fighters, their pilots climbing down from their cockpits. These were all the people who had risked their lives to save them from execution at the hands of the Dusahn. She wanted to hug every one of them. She wanted to thank them all, again and again, but she suspected they were not looking for thanks. She knew such men. Her father was such a man. Men who did what was right. Not for thanks, but because it was the right thing to do.
Then she saw him, walking out from between the rows of stacked cargo pods, flanked by two of his men. She could see the anguish on his face. The fear that she would not be among those pouring out of the two newly arrived cargo pods.
Then his eyes met hers, and the fear and anguish on his face turned to joy and overwhelming relief.
The general had kept his promise.
* * *
Nickname of the man who taught him to fly?
After a week of waiting for the message to unlock, it was not what Miri expected to see. She looked around her office for a moment, thinking. She felt she should know the answer, but it wasn’t clicking.
“Oh, of course,” she exclaimed, furiously typing ‘Gampy’ into the input field.
It worked.
I have taken the Aurora, and those of her crew willing to join me, to the Pentaurus sector to assist Nathan. I will do everything within my power to see to his safety. Until I speak directly to him, I strongly suggest that you continue to keep the fact that he is alive a secret. I suspect you understand the possible repercussions, both interstellar and global. I will contact you when I know more. Thank you for trusting in me. I will do my best not to let you, or Nathan down.
Miri stared at the message for several minutes, reading it again and again. Her baby brother was alive. She had learned that more than a week ago. And he was about to take on a whole new enemy. At least this time, Miri had been able to help.
The question now, was whether or not to tell their father.
* * *
Nathan rose from his bunk, responding to a knock on his cabin door. His body was still weak, but the long nap had done him a world of good. At least he felt like he could move somewhat normally, although he suspected that he would quickly tire out.
He cracked the cabin door open, spotting Marcus on the other side.
“Someone to see you, Cap’n,” Marcus said, stepping aside to reveal Cameron standing behind him.
“Of course,” Nathan said, opening the door and stepping back. “Come in.”
Cameron nodded at Marcus as she stepped past him and entered Nathan’s cabin aboard the Seiiki, closing the door behind her. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said.
“It’s all right,” Nathan assured her, running his fingers through his long hair as he sat down on the edge of his bunk. “I figure I’ve slept enough to last me awhile.”
“You’ve made a lot of changes to the Mirai, I see.”
“Seiiki. She’s called the Seiiki.”
“Of course.”
“A lot of changes to the Aurora, as well, I noticed.”
“A few.”
“What’s on your mind?” Nathan wondered. “And don’t ask how I’m feeling.”
“I don’t know, really,” Cameron admitted. “I guess I just felt like I needed to talk to you.”
“You’re trying to figure out if it’s really me, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?” Cameron wondered.
“It’s what I’d be most worried about, if I were you,” Nathan explained.
“How do you do that?” Cameron asked.
“Do what?”
“How do you always have the answer?”
Nathan laughed. “Trust me, I don’t.”
“That’s just it, Nathan,” Cameron said, “how do I trust you? You’re supposed to be dead. And now you show up, as a clone?”
“You have to stop thinking of me that way, Cam,” Nathan told her. He took a deep breath and sighed. “Look, I’ve been thinking about this, ever since we landed here. Who I am. What I am. I know this isn’t my original body, but it is still my original consciousness, complete with all my memories and experiences. The Nifelmians see the body as nothing more than a vessel to host one’s consciousness. Would the same pilot not fly equally as well in one Eagle or another?”
“It’s a hard concept to accept, Nathan. You’re asking me to trust the safety of my ship, and my crew to a clone of you.”
“Not of me, of my body. My thoughts are still mine.”
“But they’re copies too, aren’t they,” Cameron pointed out. “You were still you when you died, right?”
“I suppose so,” Nathan admitted. “Luckily, I was spared that memory.”
“And what if you were spared other memories as well? What if you have forgotten something important? Something that could cause you to make a bad decision? How do I know that you’re all there? And if something is missing, how do I know how that will change you?”
“You trusted me enough to steal the Aurora and come halfway across the galaxy,” Nathan argued.
“Because I thought it was you,” Cameron replied. “Turns out, the man who pretended to be you, didn’t even have access to your memories.”
“Yeah, I feel kind of bad about that one,” Nathan admitted, hanging his head down. “Sorry. Telles thought it was best not to take the chance, and in my own defense, I wasn’t really myself at the time.”
“I still would have come, even if you had told me the truth,” Cameron said. She leaned back in her chair, sighing. “This is so confusing.”
“It’s not confusing at all,” Nathan disagreed. “I am Nathan. The PC has been invaded, and the Alliance isn’t keeping its promise to protect it. The Dusahn are glassing entire worlds, just like the Jung glassed Tanna, and tried to do the same to Earth…just to scare the shit out of people. That’s why we’re fighting. And that is why you’re here. It’s got nothing to do with me. It’s because you’re the same as me. You do what’s right.”
Cameron didn’t have a reply at first. “The difference is, I’m not as sure as you are. I don’t normally disobey orders, and I definitely don’t normally steal warships and go charging off across the galaxy.”
“I understand why you have doubts, Cam. I really do. But isn’t it doubt that brought you here?” Nathan rose from his bunk and paced to the other end of his small cabin. “Millions have already died on Ybara and Burgess, and God knows how many on all the worlds in the cluster. We just rescued more than three hundred people—all of them innocent—their only crime was being related to the crews of jump ships that had refused to surrender to the Dusahn. Every one of them would have been executed.” Nathan paused again, turning to look out the overhead. Normally, he would have seen stars outside, or a sky if they had been parked on the surface of some world. Here, it was just structural beams and overhead lighting panels. He sighed, then turned back to her. “Corinair was there for us when we needed them. They have every right to expect us to do the same.”
“We did do the same, nine years ago,” Cameron reminded him.
“So we should ignore them now?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Something is going on here, Cam,” Nathan argued. “Something much bigger.”
“That is why I’m here,” Cameron told him. “Something much bigger is going on. For some reason, Galiardi has gone out of his way to make sure that the Alliance does not send help to the Pentaurus cluster. He wants everyone to believe that war with the Jung is imminent, even though we have no solid evidence that the ships that penetrated Alliance space in the Sol system were operated under Jung authority. He’s spent the last seven years pushing for a military buildup, and that’s exactly what he’s gotten. Now, he’ll get even more support.”
“Are you saying Galiardi is behind the Jung incursions into Alliance space?” Nathan asked in disbelief.
“No, I don’t believe he’s that crazy. But I wouldn’t put it past him to use the situation to his advantage.”
“And what advantage would that be?” Nathan wondered.
“He’s been building his political base since the day you died, Nathan,” Cameron explained. “His supporters tried to get him to run against your father in the last election, but he refused, stating that his duty was to protect the people of the Earth, and the Alliance. But everyone expects him to run next time, and by then, his support base will be huge. Especially if he gets to fight a war before then.”
“Assuming he wins,” Nathan reminded her.
“He’s got at least thirty more jump KKVs roaming around the sector in fail-safe mode. They check in periodically. If they don’t get an all-is-well response, they launch. If he wiped out enough of the Jung’s infrastructure, it would only be a matter of time before the Jung fleet would have no choice but to surrender.”
“I seem to remember that they had more than a hundred ships,” Nathan said.
“The number doesn’t matter,” Cameron said. “Without a supply chain, they can’t continue operating. Considering the way the Jung caste system works, the warrior castes that command those ships would most likely cut and run. Probably head out to try to build their own empires, just like we believe the Dusahn did centuries ago.”
“Centuries ago?” Nathan wondered.
“That’s what Fleet Intel believes,” Cameron replied.
“Then the Dusahn may be telling the truth.”
Cameron looked at Nathan. “About what?”
“When Lord Dusahn addressed the Takaran house of nobles, he told them that the Dusahn are independent of the Jung Empire.”
“How did you learn that?” Cameron wondered.
“His little speech was broadcast across Takara’s public networks, as well as every other world in the cluster,” Nathan explained.
“How can you be sure it’s not a ruse to prevent an all out attack against the Jung by the Alliance?” Cameron wondered.
“We can’t,” Nathan admitted. “But to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. At least not to us. Not if Galiardi is hanging the PC out to dry in order to further his own agenda.”
“It is important, though,” Cameron insisted. “If the Dusahn are not operating in concert with the Jung, then it’s likely that the Jung do not have jump drives.”
“And that Galiardi is going to start a war for no reason,” Nathan surmised.
“Not no reason,” Cameron corrected. “Just not a good reason. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing for sure, one way or another.” Cameron admitted.
“Have you thought of telling anyone?” Nathan wondered.
“Other than you, and my command staff, only one other person,” Cameron said. “Robert Nash.”
“Jessica’s brother?”
“Yes. I sent him a time-delayed message on our way out of the Sol sector. He is still in command of the Tanna, although it’s been converted into a destroyer now.”
“What do you think he’ll do?”
“I don’t know that he’ll do anything. But I had to tell someone the truth of why I took the Aurora, just in case.”
“In case what?”
“In case we never make it back.”
Nathan sighed. “I apologize for pulling you into this, Cam. But without the Aurora, we don’t have a chance in hell.”
“Even with the Aurora, our chances are pretty slim.”
“They usually were,” Nathan replied, a sly smile forming. “That’s what she’s good at
, after all.”
Cameron took a deep breath as she rose. “We’ll see,” she sighed. “Our last recharge layover will conclude in two hours. Would you like to be on the bridge when we rendezvous with the Glendanon?”
The smile on Nathan’s face grew larger. “Indeed I would.”
“Then I’ll see you there,” she said, turning to exit. “But you need a shave and a haircut, first. And maybe a uniform as well.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER THREE
The simple act of shaving had done wonders for Nathan. At first, he had feared he might not be able to handle the scissors without cutting himself, but his concerns had proven unwarranted.
When he queried his mind to determine when he had decided to grow a beard, he realized that Connor had awakened with one, and simply never removed it. In fact, he clearly remembered a picture of himself in the dossier about Connor that Doctor Sato had given him to learn about himself. He had a beard in that picture as well, one nearly identical to the one he had just removed. He wondered if they had encouraged him, back then, to keep the beard in order to help hide his true identity. It also occurred to him that fear of recognition might also have been why Marcus had always insisted on keeping a low profile. “The less people see you, and know about you, the better off you are.” Staying away from the worlds of the Pentaurus cluster had also been Marcus’s idea, now that he thought of it. The realization had brought a smile to Nathan’s face, as Marcus was always seeing to Nathan’s safety.
One thing was sure, Nathan did not wish to have a beard.
His hair had been a bit more challenging. Shaving was relatively easy. Just keep going until you found skin. But the hair…
He had started by trimming his bangs just enough to get them out of his eyes. He remembered having them shorter when he was Nathan, and tried to trim them the same way. The overall length had been even more difficult, and after a few snips, he decided to hold off and let someone else do it. Surely, amongst all those rescued from Burgess, someone would know more about cutting hair than he did.