by Drew Avera
Stavis sighed. “I’m not familiar enough with the operation of it to be comfortable doing that. If I do something wrong, then it goes off and I might not be able to disable it after tampering with it.”
Ilium’s heart raced. The prospect of having someone attack his ship and crew so soon after Captain Crexon and several others were killed made the blood drain from his face. It takes a sinister sonofabitch to take out a full crew, he thought. “What do you propose?”
Stavis gawked at him, her jaw slack. He watched intently as she struggled to formulate the words he feared hearing. “I think we put everything back and pretend we didn’t see it. We have someone we trust keep an eye on him and monitor the situation from there. Without more information, we will be forced to make a rash decision, which might result in a huge mistake.”
“The huge mistake is letting him continue to walk around on this ship as the second in command,” Ilium snapped, his voice high.
“Trust me, sir. If he is working with others on this ship, then stopping him now could spark another chain of events we won’t know about until it’s too late.”
He stared into her eyes, seeing the passion, the belief that what she said was true. Ilium struggled to find a counter-argument, but came up empty handed. “That’s as sound a decision as we’re going to get for now, I suppose. I’m not comfortable keeping this thing on the ship, though.”
She nodded. “If we jettison it, then he’ll know we’re onto him. That could prompt a backup plan. We need to monitor his communications off ship and on the ship. If he has accomplices, we need to find them and silence them as well.” Her cold gaze into Ilium’s eyes revealed something about her he had not noticed before. Her ability to be manipulative to win. He found it oddly satisfying that a personality trait similar to his own could be used for the good of the Greshian Navy, instead of opposing it.
“Very well. I want you in charge of this. Keep me notified. I trust your judgement, and I think you would agree, given our secret, that I might be biased regarding why he is here.”
“Yes, sir. Consider it done.”
Ilium lifted the bags back into the tri-wall and closed the top. “Of course, you realize, if we all die, it’s your fault,” he teased, attempting to make the situation lighter.
She looked up at him with a smirk. “Yes, sir. I do.”
Twenty-Five
Brendle
The lights dimmed on the bridge, casting everything into shadows, drawing his attention to the most important place on the ship; the weapon’s station. As the border of the screen highlighted in red, Brendle tapped the keys on the console, contemplating his next move. “The weapon does not appear to be tracking us,” he said. “The heat signature suggests it was not a recent firing, either.”
“What does that mean, Captain?” Deis asked.
Brendle ignored the question, moving on to a tactic. “Pilot, move the ship fifteen-degrees port.”
“Roger that,” Pilot answered. Gravitational forces seized the ship momentarily as thrusters engaged, pulling the ship clear of the missile’s trajectory.
Brendle watched the screen with unblinking attention. As the Replicade shifted her position, the missile continued the same path. “It means this missile is no longer operating as an active seeking missile. With the heat signature all but completely gone, I believe it is a stray. But this was fired within hours of us discovering it. The thermos-blankets are not completely iced over and it’s traveling at a velocity consistent with a projectile not inhibited by gravitational forces from large bodies.”
“Who fired it?” Deis asked.
Brendle tapped on the console, zooming in with the sensory array to get a closer look at the missile. “The markings are Greshian.”
“So, one of their ships is in this sector?” Malikea interjected, the worry in his voice accompanied by a high-pitched squeak.
Brendle hesitated to answer. “I’m afraid so.”
“What do we do with the missile?” Deis asked, prompting Brendle’s hands to fall onto the keys of the console once again.
His gaze followed the running lines scrolling across the screen as he contemplated their options. “Pilot, what means do we have to detonate this missile without using our more valuable assets?”
“Your two best options are firing a slug from the rail gun, or hacking into its computer and steering it towards the nearest star.”
“Can you hit it from this distance to detonate it?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.” Brendle watched the screen as the ship’s AI seized control of the weapon’s station and powered on the rail gun. All data regarding the weapon appeared as if someone on the console controlled it, giving Brendle the opportunity to familiarize himself with the system without having the responsibility to operate it himself. “Don’t let it get too close.”
“I’m allowing the missile to come closer to ensure a large enough target base to lock onto.”
Brendle nodded, understanding the tactic, but growing nervous as the distance between a Greshian warhead and his ship closed. The harder his heart beat, the more difficult it was for him to stop himself from taking control of the weapon and doing it himself. I hate not being in control.
Like an answer to a prayer, the rail gun fired, catapulting a slug from the cannon and delivering it to the approaching missile. Brendle and his crew watched the monitor, waiting for the warhead to explode safely away from the ship. A collective sigh emanated from the center of the bridge as it exploded into thousands of smaller fragments, rendering it useless space debris.
“Thank the gods,” Deis said under his breath.
“I’m inclined to agree with you, but I have a concern,” Brendle said, his voice flat.
“What is I t?” Malikea asked.
“Greshians don’t miss and they don’t launch live missiles for training purposes. What is a stray missile doing in this sector? And if they battled someone, then who was it? This isn’t a militarized sector, and barring a waste of resources by firing on an already defeated enemy, I don’t have a logical explanation for the presence of this warhead unless they found an opponent equally matched to them.”
“What are you trying to say?” Deis asked, pulling his robe tighter around his body.
Brendle leaned against the console and gazed at the data coming in from the sensor array. The missile was used for ship-to-ship warfare, not planetary destruction. That meant only one thing, there was indeed a battle. “I think the Greshians met their match.” Surprise lit his voice more than he thought possible, brushing towards a gleeful idea that an end to the war and destruction could be possible after all. But what if the new combatant was worse than the Greshian Empire? The thought filled him with dread, smothering his reluctant hope. “I’m saying, if there is a force comparable to Greshian’s might, then we may find more than we bargained for in coming to this sector. We need to be vigilant in monitoring our surroundings.”
“Do you think they will attack us if we come across them?” Malikea asked.
“I hope not, because whatever force can stand up to the Empire isn’t someone I want to go toe to toe with on the Replicade.”
“What should we do? We came here to find help for Anki.” Deis reminded him.
Brendle sighed, pulling his eyes from the monitor as the illumination on the bridge returned to normal. “The mission stays the same. We land and get Anki the medical care she needs. But at the first sign of something sinister coming our way, we need to evade. I don’t want to engage a threat unless we have no choice.”
Deis and Malikea nodded.
“Pilot, do a perimeter scan from our current location to our destination and mark any vessels on our course. I want to evaluate each one to determine the probability of their being a threat to us.”
“Roger. Data on screen.” The monitor flooded with information as thousands of ships appeared.
Brendle groaned. “Compile the data by size and type. I want the largest military vessels at the top.
” The information shifted, displaying the data from the deadliest to the least threatening, but there was too much to view without scrolling down. “Do you guys mind helping me assess the data?”
“Whatever you need,” Deis replied.
“Other than a drink, I need to ensure we don’t encounter any of these ships,” he said pointing to the screen. Near the top, he saw the Greshian vessel King Slayer. His finger hovered over it for a moment. “Especially this one.”
Twenty-Six
Anki
Dark clouds rolled in, blanketing the horizon as they choked out the light of the pale sun. A chill settled over Anki as she approached the robed figure standing in front of her, tendrils drifting in the wind from the fabric hanging loosely over their body, appearing more at peace than the world surrounding them. “Carista?” Anki said as she neared. Her voice sounded strained, as if she spoke through a gag.
The figure turned, still cloaked in shadows. Anki did not have to see the face to know it was Carista. Two small hands lifted, grasping the hood draped over the head and pulled it back. Long hair fell on both sides of the head as she looked towards the ground, avoiding Anki’s gaze.
“Carista, it’s me, Anki.”
The girl looked up, bewildered eyes glancing in Anki’s direction before darting away. “I know who you are.”
“I’ve come a long way to find you.”
Anki’s words appeared to stab at Carista, paining her to hear them as she winced. “You should not have come.”
“Why not? You’re alone out here.”
“No, I’m not alone. They are here too,” the girl said, her voice tinged with desperation.
Anki stepped forward. “I’ll protect you.”
Carista’s expression grew sadder. “I’m protecting you.”
Anki glanced around the horizon, but beyond ominous clouds, she saw no threat. “I don’t understand.”
With a gentle wave of her hand, the landscape shifted, suddenly populated by hundreds of people in uniforms and lab coats. Anki inhaled, holding her breath to not be discovered, despite the fact no one appeared to notice them.
“Where are we?” Anki asked, finally mustering the courage to speak.
Carista shifted her hand again and that version of the world fell away, once again casting them in the dreary atmosphere of the angry planet. “The hiding place,” she answered.
Anki shuddered. “And who are you hiding from?”
“Them.”
“Them who? Who was the woman I saw earlier?”
Carista looked up with tears in her eyes. Lifting a shaking hand, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Twenty-Seven
Hespha
Inside her home, bags piled on the bed, Hespha packed for the trip. She didn’t know how Edon came by the information he presented to her, but she saw the opportunity to do what was necessary to take control of CERCO. This trip was a means to an end and one she expected to complete as soon as possible, no excuses. If the transmission coming from this world had ties to the weapon, then this was their only lead to reclaim possession of it.
Another call interrupted her thoughts. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Ka’Hor’al,” the computer replied.
“Answer it.”
“Hespha, it’s Ka’Hor’al.”
“I know. What do you want? I’m busy packing,” she said, not trying to mask the agitation in her voice. He knows I hate being distracted.
“I want to go with you,” he replied.
Hespha rolled her eyes. “If we both go, then who’s going to handle our affairs here?” it was a longshot of a proposal to tempt him to stay, and she knew it would not be effective.
“The board does not recognize our position with the corporation. Whether we are here or there, our right to control is nonexistent until we have the weapon. Why not let me go and accompany you?” His voice sounded more flirtatious as he ended his statement.
Hespha sighed loud enough for Ka’Hor’al to hear her, but she did not care about upsetting him, just as he did not seem to care about constantly disrupting her life. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Hespha.” His tone shifted, sending a chill down her spine. The words did not constitute a threat, but the implication of the words with his inflection suggested something.
Her back stiffened as she breathed deeply. Everything about their relationship was unhealthy, and she felt she was the only one trying to back out of a harmful environment. “Fine,” she relented, “but this is a business trip, not a vacation. We go there, we get what we need, and we come back weapon in hand. Understand?”
She could almost hear him smirking on the other end of the call. “Yes, I understand. I’ll meet you at the transport and hour before takeoff,” he answered.
“I’ll see you there,” she said, trying to sound happy about it, when all she wanted to do was shove a finger down her throat and throw up.
The call ended, and she was alone in her home. As she looked around, her surroundings reminded her of another life. The foundations of this home were built on happier memories, ones of two people in love with their work and with each other. Now, it felt like a hollow void in her life, providing limited comforts as she tried to escape the memories that made her feel guilty.
“Computer, how long do I have before the flight?”
“Six hours.”
“Have a car pick me up to take me to the cemetery.”
“A car has been hailed.”
I suppose I should say goodbye to T’anoi, she thought as she shoved another stack of clothes into her bag. She knew her involvement with his death did not give her the right to so freely consider them close, but she hoped the memories of what they had were enough for him to remember her fondly in the afterlife, if one existed.
“A car is waiting outside,” the computer chimed, pulling Hespha from her thoughts.
“Thank you, she said, closing the bag and positioning it next to the other, previously packed and waiting to go. Hespha left the room she once shared with T’anoi and made her way downstairs. She hated cemeteries, and she hated funerals, but her compulsion to go felt stronger than her disdain.
Leaving her home behind, she climbed into the waiting car, preprogramed to take her to her destination. As it drove off, she looked out the window, watching the world pass by through thin glass. It was a veil guarding her from the elements of the outside world, just as her demeanor guarded her from being hurt by others. It eventually led to the dissolving of her and T’anoi’s relationship. She refused to be hurt by someone more passionate about his work than their life together. But in the end, she only hurt herself. The realization brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. I deserve them, she thought.
No, I deserve a lot worse.
Twenty-Eight
Ilium
“Is everything all right?” Commander Quino asked as Ilium slumped into his seat on the bridge. “You were gone for a while.”
“Everything is fine,” Ilium replied, leaning his arm on the chair towards Quino. “I went down to the hangar and discovered your personal items were not yet delivered to your stateroom. I have a few men working on that for you.”
Quino fell back into his seat, looking forward, “Excellent. I appreciate that, Captain.”
“It’s no trouble. I didn’t want you reporting back to your stateroom and wondering where your stuff was. This is a big ship to navigate when you’re trying to find a clean pair of underwear.” Ilium cut a smirk in the other man’s direction, one eyebrow raised mischievously. Quino smiled with his lips, but his eyes showed something else as ilium looked at him. Yes, the eyes reveal all.
“Again, I appreciate that. Would you like an update on the ship’s status?” Quino asked.
Ilium knew all he needed to, but decided to play along. “Of course, the situation often changes by the minute on this ship.”
Quino smiled again, relief on his face. “T
he drive data from the ship which attacked you is not in the database. Intel is attempting to cross reference the data we have and search for similar signatures in other sectors of the galaxy. They hope to find a cache centralized in one or two areas to narrow our search. A ship that large has to leave a footprint.”
Ilium nodded. “The bigger question isn’t will we find that ship, but will we find more like it? The impact a single ship had on us was bad enough, but if there’s a fleet of them, then this will turn into a suicide mission rather quickly.” The only fear military leaders in Greshia held was that one day they would encounter a shadow empire that matched the ruthlessness and deadly precision Greshia held. One fleet versus another would cast the galaxy into the brink of extinction. That was the driving force behind annihilating your enemies from the start: not to give rise to a rebellion, and snuff it out before it catches fire.
“My hope is we will find a single ship and destroy it,” Quino replied.
“Agreed,” Ilium said as his monitor pinged with a message from Stavis. He glanced at it, trying not to show urgency, though his curiosity burned. The message read, “It is done,” a notification that Commander Quino’s stateroom was bugged and Stavis could track his actions so long as it was restricted to one area. It was a long shot, but it was also the only shot they had for delving into the mind of a mole. What Ilium craved most was catching another mole on his ship in the new Executive Officer’s room, plotting to seize control of the ship. Ilium waved a finger across the screen, sending an auto-response back to Stavis.
“It is done? What was done?” Quino asked, causing a chill to run down Ilium’s spine.
He canted his head towards the man and asked, “What?”
“The message on your monitor said something was done. I’m just curious what.”