“I have dedicated my life to the Federation and the HSN Corps. I was trained in a military academy. I command a squadron of warships. When you disregard my command, it is an act of insubordination. Even an enforcer mercenary—like yourself—should understand that my assessment of any given situation trumps your own.”
“Is this how you always conduct a dressing-down of your fellow officers?” Endellion asked without a hint of irritation in her voice. “In front of your soldiers and a collection of station workers?”
“Would you rather the audience of Minister Ontwenty?”
“Is she here?”
“Yes. She's collecting all relevant data from the back and—”
“Very well,” Endellion interjected. “We can continue this discussion in her presence.”
She stepped around the commodore, her intense gaze set for the depths of the administration offices. Lysander and Quinn hurried after, and I jumped to their side, but only after a quick glance around. Sawyer wasn't here, and it bothered me. She had been quieter than usual the last few days.
The station workers cowered behind their terminals as we walked by. The soldiers, on the other hand, gave Commodore Cho concerned glances, almost like they were expecting an order, perhaps to stop Endellion. He never issued it.
We walked straight to the door. Endellion tapped at the computer terminal, and it opened, allowing us access to a long hall.
Commodore Cho and his personal soldiers followed behind us. I glanced back to catch a tight smirk across the commodore's stern face. The guy reminded me of Lysander in all the worst ways. He was the type of guy I would have loved to punch in the face. I was sure he was eager to see Endellion reprimanded.
Once we reached the end of the hall, Endellion opened the last door and strode through. I caught my breath as I entered, my attention drawn to an individual unlike anyone I had ever seen before.
A superhuman. I would have bet my life on it.
The superhuman woman stood taller than everyone else in the room, a good 30 centimeters taller than myself, with a physique so perfect, slender, and lithe that I could hardly believe she wasn't some sort of fantastical hologram. She turned to face us, and the slight movement had an elegance that shouldn't have even been possible—given the minimal effort—but I could tell the woman had an almost supernatural control over her muscles.
Unlike me, Endellion, Commodore Cho, and the rest of us, the woman wore an enviro-suit with a fine layer of metal chips, each linked together to allow for free movement. Some chips—scales, really—blinked with an inner pulse of light, betraying the tech woven within.
And her skin had a gradient effect, lighter on the front of her throat, gradually darkening on the side, and bronze across her face, up to her long, white hair. Black dots lined the side of her neck, and I couldn't help but think of pictures of animals I'd learned about when I was younger.
I had to stare up to get a good look at her face. She glanced between us for a few seconds, her expression changing from curious to neutral, as though she had come to a conclusion.
“Minister Ontwenty,” Commodore Cho said.
He stepped forward and bowed his head.
Next to Ontwenty, he looked like a child. He was already a few centimeters shorter than Endellion and I, but it was laughable when compared to the minister.
“I dismissed you, Commodore Cho,” Minister Ontwenty said, her voice lyrical and velvet to the ears. “Or have you brought me the captain of the Star Marque?”
“I am Commodore Voight,” Endellion said, before Cho could interject.
“Welcome, Commodore. I am the Minister of Medical Research for Vectin-14. You may address me as Minister Ontwenty.”
“Of course, Minister Ontwenty.” Endellion stepped forward and bowed her head in a similar fashion to Cho.
Lysander and Quinn—as though snapped from a daze—followed Endellion's example. I was the last to pay my respects, and Ontwenty gave me an odd glance, her eyes shifting over me as I offered my bow.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Endellion said. “I have disturbing news.”
“Oh? Explain.”
“A copy was made of your research.”
I gritted my teeth at the mere mention of the copied data. Why would Endellion tell her that? Was she turning herself in?
Endellion continued, “My chief cyber operations officer discovered the copy transfer data around the time we engaged with the rebellion cruisers. No doubt they considered themselves close enough to risk a transmission to an ally vessel within the sector. While I've retrieved the genetic samples, your physical research, and the original data, I'm not certain I was in time to prevent a full transmission.”
Was that true? Had the rebellion agents made a copy? Or was she referring to our own?
Commodore Cho cast a long glower in Endellion's direction, a bulging vein in his neck betraying his building ire and blood pressure.
“I would have gone after the corsairs faster,” Endellion said, “but the route was under lockdown from the Relentless Nova.”
“I was following Vectin Fleet procedure,” Commodore Cho said. “The corsairs were in my section of space, and I had two frigates under my command, as I already informed you.”
Minister Ontwenty pivoted and walked back to a computer terminal. It was only then I removed my attention from the superhuman and glanced around the room. Her guards—armed with plasma rifles—were dressed in the same high-tech enviro-suit she wore. And the guards… they were bulky and tall, not as tall as she was, but my height.
Like they, too, were genetically modified. They had to be.
Mara and Sawyer's comments rang in my ears. They'd talked about how superhumans made people for specific purposes—perfect bodyguards or engineers. It got my skin crawling. Like all these people were nothing more than flesh robots, programmed as if they were a computer designed for one task, and one task only.
“We appoint enforcers to carry out our arrest warrants,” Minister Ontwenty said, “and to fill in the gaps of law enforcement for stations and colonies with an ever-increasing population of Homo sapiens. They act outside the Federation military and aren't tied to the rigors and standards set by our navy.”
Commodore Cho held up a hand. “B-But she holds the title of commodore!”
“Commodore Voight continues her duties as an enforcer captain first. It was improper to hold the enforcers back for as long as you did, and I will send word of this to Rear Admiral Lone. My research is of the highest value.”
As if trying to save face, Commodore Cho forced a tight smile. “I see. Perhaps I can make this right by shipping your research through the Federation Navy channels, rather than through untrustworthy cargo ships.”
I didn't know whether Commodore Cho was attempting to anger the minister or if he'd just gotten lucky, but the woman turned her full attention to him, her long, white hair flowing with the movement.
Before Minister Ontwenty could speak, Endellion took a step forward. “Allow me. The Star Marque will be responsible for your shipment.”
“You?” the minister asked with a smile. “I've read Felseven's reports.”
Endellion hesitated, but only for a second. “I'm aware he voted to have my petition to govern removed from consideration, but my quality work record still stands.”
“Felseven praised you at every turn, and then spoke about your dubious methods to achieve your goals. I believe he described you as ‘overreaching and ambitious,’ likening you to ‘an eager dog awaiting a treat.’”
“Felseven has a way with words.”
The minister let out a single laugh and brushed her hair back, revealing more of her skin. More black dots—smaller than a fingernail—lined both sides of her neck and disappeared beneath the edge of her suit. There were even some behind her ear. What were they? Decoration?
“Commodore Cho can deliver my medical research,” Minister Ontwenty said, “but I want the Star Marque to serve me here on Midway Station. We'll see if you're everything Felseven
says you are.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAPIENS
I placed my hand on the space elevator door.
Midway Station was attached to Vectin-14 through the elevator—the gigantic transport stayed taut through the use of counterweights and centrifugal force. Cargo and manpower were taken from the surface to the station every couple of hours. That was all it took to experience the surface of a planet—a couple of hours.
And I had already been standing there, like a schmoe, for over an hour. The denizens of Midway Station gave me fleeting glances as they went by, and a couple repeat vendors offered me suspicious glares. Everyone had a purpose as they shuffled by. I was the only idiot gawking at the infrastructure.
Endellion and the minister wanted time to themselves. While everyone else returned to the Star Marque to prep for work on the station, I stayed to contemplate a myriad of possibilities. Life was so different than before, back when pit fights were common and I had no one to watch my six. I was going somewhere—becoming someone—and not just living life as a parasite on the belly of society.
I liked it.
Someone stepped up next to me, and their shadow blanketed the area. I tensed and turned around, surprised to see a second superhuman, this one male. They were so… tall. Not gigantic, but lithe. His suit—just as high-tech and scaled as Ontwenty's—shimmered in the light, like oil on the surface of water. A second thing for me to gawk at.
He gave me a sidelong glance. “Step aside.”
On instinct, I wanted to defy him. He didn't own the damn space station.
He was flanked on either side by men in similar enviro-suits—men like me, likely modified humans. But I wasn't intimidated.
The superhuman must have sensed my insubordination because he cracked half a smile. “The space elevator can be dangerous if not operated properly. Step aside, sapiens. For your own sake.”
I almost laughed. “Is that some sort of slur?” I asked as the man tapped at the lift terminal. “You should be a little more creative. Calling me a ‘sapien’ is hardly an insult.”
“Sapiens,” he corrected, his voice a smooth baritone. “With an S. It's origin-world Latin for wise. And if you embodied the virtue, you would return to your own business.”
“I'm admiring the scenery. I'll stand wherever I damn-well please.”
The superhuman gestured to our steel-on-steel alloy surroundings. “Simple minds are entertained by simple things, I suppose.”
“Now you're just being an asshole.”
“I've done nothing but state facts. If you have a contention with reality, I suggest alcoholism. Your kind has a knack for delusion.”
Who the fuck did he think he was? I balled my hands into fists, tense and ready to fight, despite our size difference. The superhuman laughed, his short, white hair catching the light like some strands were aluminum, glittering with a metallic edge.
They said superhumans were superior to humans in every way—not swayed by their emotions, better at keeping control than humans were—but I was coming to realize some tales were mere propaganda. This guy reminded me of a few sad sacks on Capital Station, with all the personality of a douchebag and half the charm.
The lift door opened, but the superhuman didn't enter. Instead, he shifted his gaze to something past me and smiled. “Speaking of delusion…”
“Clevon.”
I knew who it was even before I turned around. Endellion was the only one who called me Clevon.
“Good afternoon, Commodore Voight,” the superhuman said. “Here for the ceremonies?”
Endellion walked to my side and offered a quick bow of her head. “Good day, Minister Felseven. I just returned from serving your uncle on Capital Station.”
Two Felsevens? Could the universe handle that much insufferable?
“I heard of your work,” Minster Felseven said. “My uncle sends me messages through the relays on a frequent basis.”
“You must be the one who informed him of my petition.”
“Someone had to warn him before you could get your cyborg claws into his business.”
The silence that followed added a new level of tension. That Minister Felseven jackass was just as bad as the Governor Felseven who ran Capital Station and Galvis-4.
“Is there really such harm in allowing a human to govern for a single term?” Endellion asked. “Twenty years and the seat will be open again for voting.”
“We have standards,” Felseven replied. “Lowering them for the likes of you only invites a similar situation in the future.”
“I don't require a handicap, Minister. I've passed all the mental and physical examinations many times over, and I qualify for the position, according to the minimum standards set for military personnel.”
“The vote on your petition won't happen for another year. That's plenty of time to change the requirements for the position. You may think you're playing the game, Commodore, but I don't appreciate your blatant power-grab or your tendencies to find every loophole in our system. There are others far more suited to the position of governing than the likes of an enforcer captain.”
Endellion forced a smile. “Have some perspective, Minister. There are 102 planets within the Vectin Quadrant that require governors. One garden zone planet for one term is nothing more than the blink of an eye for superhumans. Perhaps your efforts would be better placed elsewhere.”
Minister Felseven stepped up to the open lift. I backed away—not wanting to cause Endellion trouble—but Endellion didn't move, despite their close proximity.
“Careful,” Felseven said under his breath as he walked by. “My suit is worth more than your life. How's that for perspective?”
Felseven and his bodyguards entered the lift and the doors closed, leaving Endellion and me with a cold farewell.
I let out a forced exhale and crossed my arms. I wasn't sure how I should have reacted to the conversation. Fighting the guy was out of the picture, and Endellion was playing with politics I didn't entirely understand. I understood the general picture—Homo superior didn't want Homo sapiens in the upper level of politics. And it sounded like the whole Felseven clan had it out for Endellion. Or perhaps humans in general.
Endellion said nothing. She didn't even look at me. Her eyes were filled with a pensive melancholy, and it was unlike anything I had seen from her before. But it was over before I could comment. She took a breath and returned to her composed self without a hint of hesitation.
“How'd your meeting with Minister Ontwenty go?” I asked.
“Minister Ontwenty is excited to have the Star Marque working for her directly.”
“She's not worried about your dubious record?”
“It was because of my record that she was enthusiastic.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. Minister Ontwenty wanted Endellion because she had questionable methods for getting shit done. That improved the chances that work on Midway Station would be interesting. What could a Minister of Medical Research want with a group of enforcers, anyway?
Endellion faced me with a new intensity as she panned her gaze from my head to my toes. The way she looked at me always made me nervous, but I smiled and let it slide from my thoughts.
“You got something you want to say?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I brought you aboard the Star Marque because I needed a pilot.”
“Yeah, you said as much.”
“But I also want someone I can rely on. Someone to help with tasks no one else can do. A confidant.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I wanted to wait until later, but I'm running out of time. You're the only one with the talents I need, and you're the only one who will understand what I'm going through.”
I glanced around. Lysander and Quinn were nowhere to be seen. It was just Endellion and me, standing around the space elevator while groups of workers and merchants went about their business.
“What're you talking about?” I asked.
“Greatness c
ompetes with greatness, and I need someone to help me compete.”
“With the superhumans?” Or maybe she just wanted to get back at Felseven. “You want to be the Minister of Medical Research now or something? I can't really help you with that. Not unless you want to know which chems work as the best painkillers.”
To my surprise—shock, really—Endellion took my elbow and led me away from the space elevator. I glanced over to her, confused, but said nothing. Endellion returned my bemused expression with a look of confidence and amusement. I would have said she was having a laugh at my expense, but Endellion wasn't like that.
“I need a doctor for the Star Marque,” she said.
“Look, I'm amazing, but I'm no doctor, no matter how many compliments you pass my way.”
“While it's amusing to imagine your brash bedside manner, that's not what I meant. I spoke with Minister Ontwenty about a new and undiscovered talent in the medical field. Someone I think would be perfect for the Star Marque.”
Endellion led me to a door, typed something into the computer screen next to the lock, and waited. After a few seconds, the door slid open, and we continued on our strange trek. We passed through a few security arches with x-rays and cybernetic detection before exiting out another door and entering a wonderland of plants and water.
I stopped dead in my tracks to take in the sight.
It was a garden. Lush green leaves and bright, yellow flowers contrasted in amazing ways, growing out of controlled beds. A wall of wondrous aromas hit me as I walked to the first fern in sight and marveled at its size. We didn't have plants like that on Capital Station. The most we had were bio-farms, and they were filled with the low-light mosses used in nutrient paste.
I had only seen plants like this in informative documentaries or entertainment vids.
I was half-tempted to rip off my enviro-suit so I could touch the leaves with my bare hands. Why didn't these damn suits have removable gloves? I opted instead to graze the tips of the leaves, worried I might damage something if I touched them too hard. The plants must have been delicate, what with their thin petals and tiny stems.
It wasn't hard to see Endellion was fascinated by my reaction—smirking the entire time while I marveled at my surroundings—but I couldn't help myself. When I glanced up and saw the beauty of Vectin-14 through the transparent aluminum skylight, it really was like standing planetside—or so, I'd imagined.
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