by C. Gockel
“And I'm Jaydon,” the captain said. “Now can we get going? I'd really like to get out of here.”
“How do we get back to your ship?” Maxar asked. “Do you know if it's guarded?” Jaydon answered Maxar's questions, giving him directions and his opinion it was probably still being searched. Maxar took it all in, looking calm. Tremmilly had just seen him take on two whole squads of well-trained soldiers with a long knife and a dog at his side. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was.
While they talked, everyone grabbed a compact rail pistol from the bodies of the dead security personnel. Jaydon raised the idea of taking battle armor, but Maxar explained that without training, the armor was more of a hindrance than a help. Calm beyond any natural ability, Maxar gave Tremmilly quick instruction on how to use her new pistol. Jaydon seemed a little too interested in Maxar's instruction and Tremmilly guessed he did not quite understand how to use it either. But he’s too proud to ask, she thought, shaking her head.
Tremmilly was unsure if she would be able to use the rail pistol, feeling it would probably be as useless as the armor would have been. I don’t think I can fire on a living being. Hopefully Maxar, and at extreme necessity, Beowulf, could handle any new threats.
Their preparations complete, the group set off towards the hangar. Maxar took point, Jaydon followed, and Tremmilly and Beowulf brought up the rear. They reached the doorway to the incoming dock without incident. Tremmilly thought their guards would have been missed by now, but for whatever reason, nothing had happened. The group, after more walking, grew close to the A'tal's Revenge. When Maxar saw the ship, he looked perplexed, but then veiled his emotion so quickly Tremmilly was unsure she had seen it in the first place. It isn't much of a stretch to think he’d be surprised to be rescued by a ship looking like the Revenge. Tremmilly remembered how, when she had first seen the vessel, she’d wondered if it would even get off the ground.
The same two squads were clambering over the ship, inspecting every nook and crevice. They had been searching for quite a while and Tremmilly supposed they would have stopped long ago had it not been for their harsh commander. A shudder coursed through her at the thought of that horrible Separate Domis.
Maxar led them towards a small cluster of metal containers stacked near the A'tal's Revenge. Tremmilly feared the soldiers would spot them, painfully aware of how exposed they were while crossing the expansive floor.
“I don't think we have time to wait for them to finish,” Maxar whispered. “If we don’t get out of here, the dead guards will be discovered and this group will set a defensive perimeter around the Revenge.” He looked back and forth between Tremmilly and Jaydon. Tremmilly could tell he was evaluating them, seeing if they could handle what he was about to say. “We need to rush in and ambush them. If we are in close, we'll be somewhat protected from rail fire. They won’t be able to shoot without hitting their comrades. Beowulf and myself will be able to work.”
Now that the time had come, Tremmilly was sure she wouldn't be able to point the rail pistol at a living creature and pull the trigger. She knew she would feel tremendous guilt if she did manage to kill something. Yes, they had been treated unfairly, and yes, saving this man was what she had come here to do, but did that justify killing? The thought ricocheted through her mind, and she was unsure what to do. Her companions were counting on her and if she didn't help—well, the odds weren't great to begin with. You’ll be making them worse. Tremmilly steeled her resolve, knowing if she did manage to kill one of the soldiers her conscience would beat her up. Letting your friends die would be much more painful, and you know it.
Maxar counted down silently on his fingers. Five...four...three...two... , and just as he was about to flash the single digit, something made him pause. Then, Tremmilly sensed it. Jaydon too had noticed, head cocked to the side to take in the sound.
There was a rhythmic stomping of boots, growing louder by the second. We were seen, Tremmilly thought, cold dread falling over her already tumultuous emotional landscape. She looked at Maxar and was surprised to see he was grinning. Tremmilly didn't understand. He's a veteran. I must be missing something.
Maxar motioned for Tremmilly, Beowulf, and Jaydon to follow him as he slunk down the line of containers. They reached the end of the row and slipped around the edge just as the soldiers who’d been at the ship jogged past the other end. Close, Tremmilly thought, realizing they’d almost been spotted. She breathed a small sigh of relief. Jaydon looked as if a load had been taken off his shoulders. Maxar still looked the same, a small bit of happiness on his face.
“They made our job a bit easier,” Maxar whispered. “Once they are far enough out, we board the ship. Hopefully you can get us out of here before they get back to their ops base and realize a couple squads and several prisoners are missing. We won't have much time, so we’ll need to work as quickly as possible.” Tremmilly and Jaydon nodded. Tremmilly, last in line, peeked out to observe the soldiers’ progress.
“I think they are far enough now,” she said, hoping she was right. Tremmilly had the distinct impression if they were caught now, they would find their situation much worse than before. She was feeling more confidence in the tall man with the pale blue eyes, however. This too felt like the right thing to do, but she could not decide whether this was intuition or desperation.
Maxar slipped around the far edge of the containers, footfalls silent. Jaydon followed, his movements producing considerably more noise. Tremmilly, with Beowulf at her side, brought up the rear. Maxar led them to the A'Tal's Revenge, which was surprisingly devoid of guards. Once inside, Jaydon reversed his earlier sabotage, and then hustled to the flight deck.
Tremmilly started to follow, but Maxar stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Can we trust this captain and his ship?” he asked, eyes probing hers as if he could delve the answer from them.
“Well,” she responded, “he brought me this far on my word and a small threat.” Maxar cocked his head, brow furrowing. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a shudder ran through the ship. Jaydon's voice came back from the flight deck.
“I got the engines powered up, but guards are running towards us. They have rail pistols drawn.” He sounded panicked, but was holding it together. Maxar left Tremmilly, running towards the deck. When she caught up, she saw the situation had grown worse.
Two guards had rail pistols leveled at the view window, while another two stood behind them, apparently lacking ranged weapons. The two with the pistols were signaling Jaydon to power down and open the ship's hatch.
“We all know what happens if we stop now,” Maxar said. “The outcome of pressing on, while seeming dire at the moment, at least gives us a chance. The commander of this facility will certainly not let you go now, not after we killed several of his men.” Jaydon was terrified, but after Maxar finished speaking, he sat up straighter. Tremmilly was ready to put her life into this convict’s hands, crazy as it seemed. Both she and Jaydon nodded.
Jaydon put the ship into a vertical takeoff and flew towards the huge docking doors, the stress causing the ship to groan ominously. Tremmilly also heard several popping noises. Then they were out the doors, into the void. Space and the confines of a small ship have never felt so good, Tremmilly reflected as they flew further and further from the orbital dock. Jaydon let out a small whoop, sliding his chair back from the console. Maxar was a bit more stoic.
“I would save the celebration until we are safely outside their grasp,” he said, settling down into the other deck chair.
A terrifying thought occurred to Tremmilly, “What about their defense systems? Won't they shoot us?”
“No,” Maxar said, “they can't. I disabled their power. That was what I was doing just before I found you.”
As Maxar finished speaking, several warnings popped up on Jaydon's grungy control console. “Hull breaches. We're losing pressure,” Jaydon said anxiously. “It's venting faster than the converters can keep up with. We've got about two hours until we reach critical l
evel,” he stated, voice quavering, but eyes resolved.
“You keep putting as much distance as you can between us and that dock and I'll go see what's wrong, although I'm pretty sure I can guess what it is.” Maxar left the flight deck. Neither Tremmilly nor Jaydon spoke.
After a minute, Maxar returned, face still stoic. “It's as I thought. Those popping noises were rail projectiles punching through the hull. We've got at least three or four decent holes. They are venting atmosphere rapidly. Where is your emergency patch kit located?” Jaydon shook his head, not looking at either of them.
“I sold it,” he said, eyes downcast. After a pause, he added: “For drinking credits.”
“Then we just seal the hatches and ride the rest of the way on the command deck. We’ll cycle all the remaining atmosphere out of the compromised areas.”
Jaydon shook his head again. “Pirates blew the door seals during a raid. I never got around to fixing them.”
“You don’t have anything on board that we can patch the holes with?”
“Nope, not unless you can stuff them full of garbage.”
“No, I don’t think that will work.” Maxar didn't seem upset, and even smiled a little at Jaydon. “It'll be rough as the fires of the dark star, but we can pull through. Once we are at worm distance, we'll just have to jump to some place we can land without attracting attention. Any ideas?”
“We’ll be safe on Eishon-2,” Tremmilly interjected. “It's where I'm from. It's quiet, and I know a lot of people there. They also aren't exactly loyal to the Ashamine, so I'm sure no one will report us. We’ll have plenty of time to repair the ship and figure out what to do next.” Tremmilly heard how eager she sounded and realized she was more homesick than she’d previously understood.
“Sounds fine to me,” Maxar replied, small smile returning. Jaydon also agreed.
Minutes passed in silence as the ship accelerated towards the worm zone. “I ran the calculations,” Jaydon said. “If I push the engines to their max, we should get to Eishon-2 before our atmosphere peters out, but just barely. We won't have a lot of time to spare.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure there are no delays,” Maxar replied, still optimistic.
Tremmilly was too nervous to join the conversation. She had begun thinking about the air flowing out the rents in the hull. What if Jaydon's calculations are wrong? The thought of being locked in this box with no atmosphere... Well, she didn't want to think about that.
Silence returned. Jaydon was busy programming the coordinates for the worm drive. Maxar sat in contented silence. Tremmilly managed to get her fear under control somewhat, but the anxiety of the situation kept her from socializing.
After an hour of uneventful acceleration through Haak-ah-tar space, the ship reached the worm zone. Not a moment too soon, Tremmilly thought, excited to be heading back home.
“Here we go,” Jaydon said, initiating the worm generator. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. “The worm drive is down,” Jaydon announced, sounding defeated. “I can try to take a look at it, but I'm not qualified to repair something that complex.” He leapt out of his chair and left the command deck, heading for the engine room.
Less than an hour left, Tremmilly thought, feeling helpless. Maxar too was apparently unskilled in worm drive repair, because he remained seated. They waited, seconds dragging by. Is the atmosphere getting thinner?
An enormous burst of light filled the ship and Tremmilly thought she would be blinded. It was the brightest thing she’d ever seen. Jaydon messed something up! It exploded. Only when the light's intensity had lowered somewhat did she open her eyes. The view window on the ship had tinted as dark as possible and the light was still painfully intense.
“What in the fires of the dar—” Maxar began to say, but an emergency tone from the ship's speakers cut him off.
After several seconds, a voice replaced it. “All ships, this is Bloodsport orbital dock. Haak-ah-tar Primary has just gone supernova. We repeat, Haak-ah-tar Primary has just gone supernova. Suggest moving to worm area and retreating to a safe system with haste. This is not a training exercise. Flee with all possible speed.”
“That's bad,” Maxar said with a sigh, covering his face with his hands. “The participants back on Bloodsport used to talk about how long it would be before the primary went nova. There was even a betting pool.”
“How did it just go supernova?” Tremmilly asked, her fear of suffocation momentarily eclipsed by curiosity. “And how did anyone guess it was going to happen? It's not like there is a timer or something.”
“The primary star has been dragging material off of its smaller binary companion, gaining mass. Scientists have predicted the supernova, but when was the big question. Some thought years, some thought millennia. Guess we know now, and I would have lost the pool.” A far away look came over Maxar's face. Tremmilly guessed he was thinking about his friends back on Bloodsport, how it would be destroyed by the oncoming shock wave.
Jaydon had evidently got the news as well, because Tremmilly heard him cursing loudly from deeper in the ship. “This certainly makes our situation more complicated,” Maxar said. His characteristic fleeting smile appeared, and it made Tremmilly feel better. “It wasn't enough for Bloodsport to be after me. Even the star itself pursues us.”
“Hopefully Jaydon can get the drive fixed,” Tremmilly said, fear returning. “Otherwise, we'll all suffocate in this box and be blasted into the particles of existence.”
“On the bright side,” Maxar interjected, still sounding hopeful, “at least the Ashamine won't be able to find us.”
His cheerful demeanor was doing less and less to comfort Tremmilly. A deep and paralyzing fear overcame her. Did the leading bring me all this way just to kill me?
Maxar stood and left the deck, perhaps heading back to try to help Jaydon. Tremmilly couldn't think of anything she could do. Tears welled up in her eyes. She hugged Beowulf, the two illuminated by the light of a dying star.
28 - The Founder
The Founder rose from his knees and made the sign of the Ashamine, left hand covering the top of his right fist, upraised to chest level. He then bowed towards the chalice at the front of the enormous cathedral. Is it really the same one the first Founder drank from to seal his covenant with the First Council? It was certainly a sight to behold, original or not. The gilded pedestal it rested on was worth the price of a starship by itself. The surrounding cathedral cost exponentially more. Probably could have started a colony world with that price. It was no wonder so many citizens made pilgrimages to see it.
All those seated behind the Founder rose and followed his example, bowing towards the Chalice of Unity. They also made another bow towards the first Founder’s statue, something inappropriate for the Founder to do.
Seeing the statue and its likeness to himself, he thanked the spirit of Ashamine for delivering the boy who would someday take his place. Ascended Rathis had briefed him on this development and the news had elevated his mood.
The Ascended recounted how the Founder's Commando had gone into the LGP facility and retrieved the boy. He was safe, but the operative, one 3rd Class Enlightened Felar Haltro, had been the only other person to survive.
No one had heard from Director Kasol. The Founder was relieved. The man had been out of control, conducting experiments without the Founder’s authorization. I should initiate an investigation into what he was doing and where he disappeared to. Crasor would be perfect for that task, but he too was still missing. Perhaps it is time to select a new Facilitator, the Founder thought, eyes narrowing.
The boy, known as Lothis until he assumed the title of Founder, was orbiting Haak-ah-tar, his guardians awaiting orders of where to take him. The Founder was still deciding where to set up the new LGP. His top scientific and strategic advisors were reviewing suitable locations. Many factors had to be taken into consideration, with secrecy and proper facilities heading the list. Hopefully this Enlightened Haltro will keep her mouth shut ab
out the LGP until she can be taken care of, he thought. She was a hero, but she'd probably learned too much while she was down in the facility. It's unfortunate, losing an FC. She had served well, and while he regretted the decision to terminate a member of his namesake unit, it had to be done. The Founder had ordered Ascended Rathis to remove Haltro from quarantine and send her to recon what the Enthos were doing on the surface of Haak-ah-tar. And once she is back out in the blighthearted desert, a well hidden explosive in her APC will restore secrecy.
Just as the Founder turned to leave the cathedral, an aide ran towards him, disheveled and manic. He was so erratic that the Founder's Fist, his bodyguards, tensed and reached for their flechette pistols. Before the situation could escalate further, the Founder motioned the Fist to stillness. The aide, Delson, stopped abruptly in front of the Founder, almost touching him. He is certainly putting on quite a show, the Founder thought, anger rising. The man was causing a scene that would inspire gossip and scandal across the Terminal Network.
“Haak, Haak-ah-tar, just, just went supernova,” Delson stammered, loud enough for those nearby to hear. Immediately, several of them ran out of the cathedral, looks of horror on their faces. The news quickly spread around the cathedral. Mayhem erupted. The Founder stood in the middle of it all, feeling stunned. He turned and watched as people fell to their knees, praying to the first Founder. That should have been kept confidential until we had time to assess the situation, he thought, a strange sense of detachment engulfing him. He felt hollow, empty, husked.
And then he remembered the boy. Lothis was on a ship in the Haak-ah-tar system. He is almost certainly dead. His heir had been saved from the crazed scientist only to be wiped out by a supernova. All his feelings of depression and uncertainty slammed back into place like a kick in the gut. The realization that years of work had been lost and would need to be repeated stoked a blaze of fury within the Founder.
Before he realized what he was doing, he struck out at Delson. The Founder’s well muscled arm drove his fist into the aide’s face. Blood flew from Delson's nose, mouth, and lips, the ornate rings on the Founder's hand gashing and lacerating the man’s narrow features. Delson's eyes rolled up and he went down hard, flat on his back. The Founder, rage still fueling him, began kicking, aiming his blows for the most vulnerable points on the aide's body.