by Ian Martyn
In his quarters Bleak shed his sweat and grime soaked clothes and showered. As the water poured down his body he reflected on those he had been training with. In many ways he was learning with them, the advantage he had, of course, was Nathaniel’s memories and experience. The men were willing and, fired by a belief in the righteousness of their cause, worked until they were close to exhaustion. Finally they were coming to what Bleak believed was a basic level of competence, where their actions would be instinctive, essential in the confusion of battle where hesitation could cost them.
Bleak rested his head on the wall of the cubicle, he too was drained. In his tired state his weary mind wandered over what he’d been doing and the reality of his task. As his first real mission it was also the first time that he had been thrust together with a body of men on a continual basis. He was getting to know a close knit group of people, rather than relying on the memories and experiences he had been given. He ate with them, laughed and shared banter with them. He was part of their world, their team. This all threatened feelings of belonging that were alien to him.
He’d learned of their histories, their fears. Also of those that had families, children, a concept that Bleak could not even imagine for himself. And soon, if his own plans worked, he would be responsible for many of their deaths and the pain that would bring to those they left behind. Yet even as a mere hint of remorse entered his thoughts the Prime Directive and the programming that was acting deep in his psyche exerted itself. He believed that while his actions might cost hundreds of lives, they would save thousands and help bring about an end to this bloody rebellion. Conflicting thoughts could not be permitted. He believed in the Confederation, didn’t he?’ What else was there?
Bleak walked into the empty general mess and ordered a meal from the autovendor, the officer’s mess being closed as everyone took advantage of a final night of leave.
‘Not going out, Commander?’
Bleak started to rise. The admiral placed a hand on his shoulder, the gentle pressure telling him to sit. ‘No, Sir. I thought the men deserved their night out without the possibility of running into me.’
The admiral raised an eyebrow, at what Bleak knew he recognised as a feeble excuse, but didn’t pursue it. ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Of course not, sir.’
The admiral sat and loosened his collar. He stretched his feet out under the table, massaged his neck then ran a hand over his face. ‘I’m tired, Davi.’
Nathanial’s memories told him that this was a nickname the admiral rarely used for him and certainly not when they were on board ship. But then they were alone. Bleak studied the admiral’s face. Nathanial had admired and looked up to the man ever since his father had left his mother when he was young. He’d heard rumours in naval college that his uncle Koerreg, had chased the man off, but his mother had always denied it. Bleak let Nathanial’s fears speak. ‘Do you think we have a chance, sir?’
The admiral smiled and patted Bleak’s arm. ‘There’s always a chance Davi, always a chance. And that bastard Niias is a predictable old fool at times. He’ll wade in believing that weight of numbers will be enough, unconcerned of the additional losses he might suffer.’
‘And will it?’
The admiral hesitated. ‘You know, Davi,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I’ve always thought if I’d had a son of my own, I could have done a lot worse than have one like you. Not that I’ve ever had the time for a family of course.’ Bleak’s face reddened at the mixture of pride and embarrassment that he knew Nathanial would have felt. Also, perhaps with some acknowledgement of his own, soon to be, role. He didn’t hate these men, or the admiral. If anything he admired the man. So, for the moment he would content himself with the thought that he might be comforting the admiral in a small way, allowing him to voice his feelings. Not that Bleak had much experience of such things.
The admiral paused and stared into the middle distance as if selecting memories to re-live. ‘There were, of course,’ he smiled, ‘women in my life from time to time. Despite what some people think, the navy has not been my only love. One or two might even have persuaded me to form a more permanent liaison, shall we say. But then, a life that takes you away for many months at a time and from which there’s a good chance you’ll never return is hardly conducive to a long term relationship.’
Bleak wasn’t sure what to say, so said nothing.
After a few seconds of silence between them the admiral focused on him again. ‘What about you, Davi? Is there anyone special in your life?’
Bleak shook his head. ‘No, sir.’ Bleak knew that to be true for both he and Nathanial. Although it had, of course, always been true for him.
The admiral re-buttoned his collar and stood, motioning Bleak to remain where he was. ‘Perhaps that’s as well,’ he said as he left the room.
For the next few days, after the men returned all they and Bleak did was eat sleep and drill before they set off for the edge of Rebel space where they expected the Confederation to appear. They knew there would be no pretence at finesse to the Confederation’s tactics. This would be an attempt to bludgeon them into submission.
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