Star Marque Rising

by Shami Stovall

  I tapped my PAD. “I'll be there in a second.”

  Mara regarded me with a slight smile. “I just wanted to tell you. Thank you, Demarco.”

  “Like I said, don't mention it.”

  I left Noah and Mara with the exercise equipment. Noah hovered close to Mara—a little protectively, anyone could see it—and Mara stared at him with a more genuine smile than she'd offered me.

  I got two steps into the corridor when my PAD lit up.

  “Demarco,” Sawyer said, her voice low. “Mara doesn't understand.”

  I stopped walking and leaned against the bulkhead. “Understand what?”

  “Those things about Endellion. Mara doesn't understand what she had to do.”

  I understood. Endellion had needed that commodore title, and Admiral Vanine had been willing to provide one. For a price. And Yuan had been a rung in that ladder. Endellion had paid her off and altered Mara, all to keep a pair of starfighters. All to have pawns in her game.

  I understood all too well.

  “Don't worry,” I said. “I know.”

  Sawyer remained quiet.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You just didn't want me to think poorly of Endellion?”

  “I…”

  “Forget it,” I said. “I'm doing things Endellion's way. She gets results. And the crew needs her. They're relying on her.”

  Again, Sawyer said nothing.

  “If that's everything, I'm going back to my training.”

  “R-Right,” Sawyer said. “Right.”

  I walked back to the weight machine and resumed lifting. Noah and Mara remained nearby, happier than before.

  * * *

  20 days left, and a miracle happened.

  Lysander and Sawyer sat with us in the mess hall.

  Normally, Lysander ate and drank with the ground enforcers, but when he saw me coaxing Sawyer into the lift, he came along. I'd never thought I would want him at the table with us—since he was the human equivalent of a wet blanket—but Quinn had mentioned playing Pirate's Gambit, and I knew it would be interesting with him around.

  “Sawyer,” Quinn said. “I'm surprised you're here. You aren't busy?”

  “I finished my work for the day,” Sawyer said as she picked up a rum pouch and examined it with a sneer. “I don't think I need this.” She pushed it to the center of the steel table.

  Noah turned to his brother. “I thought you didn't drink?”

  “I don't,” Lysander replied.

  “We have something in common,” Sawyer said. She scooted closer to him, and every muscle in my body tensed.

  Lysander smiled. “I've always been impressed by your work ethic. I'd say we have a lot in common.”

  “Noah did say you came from the Ares Military Base. I used to frequent that place when I was younger.”

  “Really? We should exchange stories at some point. It's been years since I returned home.”

  I hated the way they spoke to each other, like burgeoning lovers. I kept my thoughts to myself—because they were insane—but I was half-tempted to sit between them. It shouldn't have mattered. I wanted Sawyer to join us, no matter what. But since when did Lysander fraternize with anyone? Sawyer was out of his league.

  Enforcers throughout the mess hall gave our table more attention than I was used to. I understood why. Four officers—two of whom were absent half the time—made up our ranks. And although I considered myself approachable, since most enforcers on this rig had no problem chatting with me, Sawyer and Lysander conducted themselves with closed-off postures. Even now, Sawyer hunched forward, her knees to her chest, glaring at the key drives we passed out for Pirate's Gambit.

  Noah and Mara sat on one end of the table—both laughing and drinking—while Quinn explained the rules. Mara didn't seem as woebegone as before, and I turned away, satisfied she would be fine for the time being.

  Lee flipped his key drive in the air and then offered me a smirk. “I don't think you're going to be successful this time around.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Big talk coming from a guy who lost last time.”

  “Well, everyone here remembers your simplistic strategy, so I doubt you'll get very far.”

  I gestured to Sawyer and Lysander with a quick jut of my thumb. “We got fresh meat, and a lot has happened since the last time we played. I'm vice-captain now. Things are different.”

  Lee gulped back a mouthful of rum. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “We'll see.”

  “I'll sit this one out,” Quinn said. “We need an even number of people. Pair up.”

  I slid over to Lysander and smirked. “C'mon, Sander. Me and you.” I didn't want him pairing with Sawyer straight out the door.

  He rubbed at his temple. “In the HSN Corps, we would address our commanding officers by their title and last name, even when off-duty.”

  “When I ran with gunrunners, we would make up names so that passersby wouldn't know jack shit about what we were talking about. So, how about you call me Vice-Captain Demarco, and I'll call you Chronic Pain? Or we can stay casual while we play a stupid flip-chip game.”

  “Fine. Let's do this.”

  “We're going two rounds,” Quinn said. “Two times with each possible pairing. Go.”

  Lysander and I revealed our choices long before the others did. I knew what he would do, and I knew what I wanted to do.

  His key drive said trust, and so did mine. We both got negative-one point, but it wasn't as bad as both of us betraying, or one of us trusting while the other betrayed.

  Lysander cocked an eyebrow. “You surprise me, Demarco.”

  The others pointed and murmured. I waved away their comments. “I said, you don't know me. I'm a new man.”

  Sawyer glared at my key drive. “I told you the game theory behind this.”

  “I know what you said.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Quinn snapped her fingers. “One more time. Go.”

  Lysander and I flipped. Just like before, we both chose trust. He stared at the key drives for a long moment, and I smiled. I could tell I was demanding everyone's attention. Good.

  At negative-two points, I wasn't first, but I wasn't last, either. Noah already had negative-six. Mara didn't dick around.

  Next round, and I faced him. Noah regarded me with a questioning glance before we revealed. We both picked trust. He sighed, and we went again. Trust both ways. The table took it better than they had last time. I wasn't surprised Lysander had never betrayed, but I was surprised Noah had decided not to betray, like he had last time.

  Maybe Lysander was right. Maybe people did mimic the actions of their superiors.

  But that was what I had banked on. While I knew Sawyer would betray both rounds—she'd told me as much and had done just that—the others played a little nicer. I stayed in the middle of the pack, until I reached Mara. People had played dirty with her. She was still in the lead—thanks to Noah and Lysander—but not by much.

  Our first round together, I stared into her eyes. She returned my gaze with something I couldn't decipher.

  We both flipped over our key drives.

  She picked trust. I picked betray, ruining her score and solidifying my win.

  “Really?” she said. “But I thought…”

  “It's just a game,” I said.

  Our last round, we both betrayed, making me the winner.

  The others nodded and patted my back. Everyone but Lysander—who was betrayed the most—though neither Noah nor I had ever done him wrong.

  Everyone at the table trusted me because of my mannerisms and opening moves. They'd seen that I trusted Lysander both times, and they'd developed a false sense of security and loyalty. But I knew Lysander was a safe bet to take my gambit on. He wouldn't betray, not even in a stupid flip-chip game. It was a character flaw. But it worked for me. He'd set me up as a good guy, and I'd knocked down the leader to take the top position.

  But Mara
didn't take it so well. She left the table, and Noah followed after her. Was she upset I'd beaten her or upset I hadn't trusted her the first round? Weird either way—but she was prone to depression. Perhaps I should've allowed her to win. But that wouldn't have been in line with Endellion's philosophy of “winning no matter the circumstances.” I'd based my tactics on her machinations, but I supposed a drinking game might not have been the place to test it.

  Still, it had worked, even if it was just a stupid game.

  * * *

  No more days left. We arrived right on schedule.

  Capital Station showed up on the main screen of the bridge, ending the long wait. I stood at Endellion's side, ready to dock and revisit the place of my youth. It felt like a lifetime ago when I'd lived in the station, but in reality, it was a little under two years.

  Time had a way of changing everything.

  Capital Station still orbited Galvis-4, the outside white and pristine, despite the dregs of humanity dwelling within. I could already smell Dock Seven and taste the foul nutrient paste. I didn't miss it.

  “Send a request to dock,” Endellion commanded.

  The bridge pilots punched in the coordinates and the message, hailing the station and requesting a space. I waited, my muscles twitching in nervous anticipation. Assassinating Felseven wouldn't be a simple task, and Endellion still hadn't discussed her plan. There was a possibility that she didn't even have one yet.

  The picture of Capital Station disappeared from the screen as everything in the bridge flickered and blinked. Then all the screens reverted to a blank white. Across each read the message: You have entered Capital Station's zone of control and will be redirected to a docking port under the authority of Governor Felseven and Admiral Gaeleven.

  My heartrate increased, worried Felseven knew the purpose of our visit.

  Endellion waited, stone-faced, her hands clasped behind her back. “Sawyer,” she said. “Give me a status report.”

  “Endellion. This isn't right.”

  “What's wrong?”

  “The operating program being used to take control of the ship isn't Federation standard. It's custom… like my code to break away from Commodore Cho. I don't have a workaround for this.”

  “How long would it take you to make one?” Endellion asked.

  The main screen blinked with a hail. Sawyer and the others calmed down as Endellion took the call, her eyes narrowed. From her reaction, I knew who it was right away.

  It was Governor Maccarus Felseven.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  TRAPPED

  Some superhumans stood in a league of their own. Governor Felseven had the menace and muscle of a bruiser, but the cunning behind his narrowed gaze reminded me of Endellion. His green eyes matched hers both in intensity and confidence. The half-smile he offered put me on edge.

  “Commodore Voight,” he said. “Welcome to Capital Station.”

  “What's the meaning of this?” Endellion asked. “Emergency seizures are for military-controlled space.”

  “My nephew didn't lie when he described you as impertinent. But if you must know, this is military-controlled space. Admiral Gaeleven has come to discuss politics with me on Galvis-4. A handful of planet governors and I will be discussing the upcoming elections and how best to proceed with the future.”

  “I request you release the Star Marque from this hold. We mean the delegates of your conference no harm. My history of serving you and Capital Station proves that.”

  I kept my gaze neutral, but I laughed on the inside. We'd come there to murder the man, and Endellion had the audacity to say we meant him no harm. The irony was thick, but the tension was thicker.

  Felseven hadn't stopped smiling. “Commodore Cho reported that you tampered with the Federation-regulation operating system. A terrible mark on your history. These codes are meant to maintain order. I think it would be wise on your part not to fight the procedures.”

  “This stunt of yours won't go unnoticed,” Endellion stated.

  “I have friends in high places, too, Commodore. You think Admiral Gaeleven and my fellow planet governors are afraid of your threats? You'll be lucky to walk away from this space station with your title, once I'm through.”

  “You have no right to strip away military titles.”

  “But the admiral does.”

  The conversation stopped, though the screen remained active. My blood grew colder with each second. We were in a fight. Maybe we weren't throwing punches, but Felseven meant to win, just as much as Endellion did. He wouldn't let himself be cornered in a room all alone, like Emissary Barten had. He would destroy Endellion without ever having to lay a finger on her.

  Felseven smirked. “I'll see you on Capital Station, Commodore Voight. Until then.”

  The screen flickered off, and the same message played from before: You have entered Capital Station's zone of control and will be redirected to a docking port under the authority of Governor Felseven and Admiral Gaeleven.

  Endellion said nothing. She continued to stare at the screen, but I knew that stiff posture of hers. Most people couldn't recognize her seething, but I could. “Sawyer,” Endellion said, half-shouting. “Why didn't I know about Admiral Gaeleven's visit?”

  “No Federation records say he'll be in this portion of space at this time. I had no idea he'd be here.”

  “I want you to examine this homebrew code of theirs, and I want the Star Marque free of it, do you understand? I can't allow him to have control of our starship. We'll be trapped here.”

  “Yes, Endellion. I'll start working on it now.”

  The Star Marque turned on its own, controlled by the Federation's operating system, and headed for Dock One. I hadn't run with any gangs on Dock One, mostly because it was reserved for official business and special personnel. Unlike the other docks, Dock One housed only two starships. The odd dock protruded from the main portion of the station like a tentacle that reached into space, giving the starships an easier time of detaching and latching.

  The other docks had hundreds of starships. Unlike Midway Station—which had been built with a space elevator in mind—Capital Station floated in orbit. Maccarus Felseven's grain empire, built from the megafarms on Galvis-4's surface, had to get its produce up somehow, so the planet-hopper vessels made runs back and forth, delivering tons of raw products.

  Felseven didn't want to lose his importance. His massive, planet-wide grain operation supplied the planets and space station of the Galvis star system and beyond. Everything outside of the Vectin star system, basically. Which was why he didn't want Ontwenty's Stellar Engine to pass through legislation. The Stellar Engine would replace the need for Galvis-4's food production, and it would make the outlying planets obsolete. Felseven would lose everything. And since Endellion was Ontwenty's dog, Felseven had every reason and desire to make sure the Star Marque failed.

  Even if he had no idea of our true goal.

  We glided into Dock One and attached to the docking port. The starship rumbled slightly under our feet. The rotation of the station provided much of the artificial gravity, and the transfer from our gravity engines to the station's outdated system took a few minutes of adjustment.

  With a quick nod, Endellion motioned for me to follow. We exited the bridge and headed straight for the docking port. Her silence unnerved me, and I took shallow breaths, but we hadn't lost yet.

  “I haven't heard of Admiral Gaeleven,” I said. “Do you know him?”

  “He's an admiral like I'm a commodore—low on the scale influence. Once, he commanded great influence, but his time passed a while ago. Now he acts more as an instructor for the major academies, and while Gaeleven is respected, he doesn't do much.”

  “But he retained his authority?”

  “Superhumans aren't susceptible to dementia or Alzheimer's or other mental diseases common in Homo sapiens. Although he's old, and his body is weaker, he retains much of his former self.”

  Endellion and I waited as the hydr
aulics for the outer door hissed and strained. I wondered if we should have brought any of the other officers before disembarking, but my thoughts veered away from the mundane when I spotted our welcoming party.

  Forty guards waited on the dock, their plasma rifles in hand, their black enviro-suits up and secured. Felseven himself waited in the group, another superhuman at his side, no doubt Admiral Gaeleven. The admiral stood tall—almost as tall as Felseven's three meters—but his wrinkled skin hung loose, and his eyes were half-sunken into their sockets.

  Superhumans were designed to live several centuries. Gaeleven could have been one of the first ones out of the tubes.

  I didn't know if Endellion was caught off-guard by the soldiers and superhumans, but she made no indication of it as she stepped forward. I kept to her side, but I regretted not taking my plasma rifle. I couldn't fight the whole room if they opened fire, but I wanted to at least kill a few of them before they got me. I doubted they would do it, simply because mass murder would have been hard to cover up or explain, even with the backing of an admiral. No—they weren't there to kill us—they were there to intimidate.

  “Commodore Voight,” Felseven said as he stepped forward, his arms outstretched. “It's so nice of you to join us.”

  Endellion said nothing, nor did she return his gesture. Felseven allowed his arms to fall back to his side, his scale-covered enviro-suit a marvel of technology, no doubt capable of refracting lasers and heightening his electroreceptors. It moved with fluid grace as he stepped up to Endellion and towered over her.

  “I'm ordering all ships to be searched,” Felseven continued. “You understand the precautions I need to take to ensure my safety. Enforcers like you make safety a business, isn't that right?”

  “I don't grant you permission to search my ship,” Endellion said.

  “I don't need your permission.”

  “Governors don't have the direct authority to authorize the search of a commodore's vessel.”

  “You already know the answer. Admiral Gaeleven has all the authority he needs.”

  “I'd rather leave Capital Station than be subjected to this treatment.”

  Felseven laughed. “No. This isn't a general inspection—these are the first steps towards a court-martial. Admiral Gaeleven and I have reason to believe you or some of your crew members are in violation of Federation protocol.” He snapped his fingers and motioned to the Star Marque. “The entire starship will be swept from top to bottom.”