by Greg Dragon
“Doesn’t seem to need any upgrades to me,” Raileo said, as he came upon her right with his hands on his hips, looking up at the Ursula’s bow. “Oh, here comes the captain,” he whispered, and stepped back with his hands to his sides.
The rest of them followed, standing at attention, as Captain Retzo Sho in his immaculate dress whites marched onto the deck and stood before them. “Nighthawks,” he said, scanning their faces one after the other. “Welcome and thank you. As you know, this is the Ursula, one of the Rendron’s original scouts. Just like you lot, she’s a silent fighter, used for getting the drop on the Geralos and delivering delicate cargo behind enemy lines. You all have been briefed and know why you’re here, but I want to formally give you my thanks for your dedication to me and the war effort.
“You all are appreciated, by not only myself but the entire crew. Now, as you embark on your journey to do one more mission for the Rendron, I want to send my good fortune with you. Deliver the package, and take some time to catch your breath.”
“Thank you, Captain,” they said, nearly in unison, and Retzo Sho tipped his hat, then turned to look up at the corvette.
He went around to each of them, grasping shoulders and expressing his gratitude. When he got to Helga, he lingered a bit, then placed a winged broach on her lapel. “Cilas Mec has the command, but you have the controls, Lieutenant. We have uploaded your ID to the console. She is in your care now, so I trust that you will treat her with dignity.”
Helga found herself dumbstruck. Was this really how it was going to be? The four of them alone with no supporting crew? She could feel her excitement grow. “Thank you, Skip,” she said. “We’ll be dignified but deadly.”
“Alright,” he said, making a gesture to the gangway. “Don’t let me keep you. You’re probably itching to see the inside. Good luck, my warriors, and thanks again. Cilas, stay on your comms. I need frequent updates from Sanctuary.”
“Aye aye, Captain Sho,” he said.
Helga was so excited to see inside that she practically sprinted for the gangway. She and Raileo climbed the steep ramp then paused to pull open the hatch before entering.
She was pleasantly surprised. There were no tight passages or mazes filled with doors. The ship had an open command deck with one main walkway running from bow to stern. This walkway ran above a patchwork of lines, with the jump drive below it and several white cylinders that Helga guessed were filled with fuel. “Note to self: don’t walk the command deck drunk. You can miss a step and die,” she said.
“You can’t fall, there’s a barrier, Cilas said, demonstrating this by tossing a glove, which rebounded before touching the top of one of the cylinders. “I think this is more form than function. Gives the illusion of open space, just in case you have travelers who get claustrophobic on smaller ships.”
Helga pressed on towards the bridge, which she assumed was in the bow of the ship. When she got there she pulled up short, confused by what she was seeing. The circular compartment had several consoles, so it was hard for her to know which one belonged to the pilot, and there was a raised platform in the center of the space, with a high-backed chair where the captain would sit.
Cilas won’t like this, she thought, looking around before accidentally walking into a star map. The display was holographic, so she phased through it like a goddess, stepping into the galaxy to observe its tiny planets. She backed up and saw that it too was part of the raised platform, so she went against everything she had been taught and went up to the captain’s seat.
She didn’t dare sit in what was now Cilas’s chair, but from where she stood, she immediately saw the advantage of the raised center and the slightly inclined deck. Its location made it easy to view every single console, every monitor, as well as the giant star map.
From its vantage point, the captain of the ship would know everything, and be able to point out areas to navigate just by selecting it on the holo-map. Helga had never been on a corvette, but she was enamored with the technology. All the doubts she had about piloting quickly dissipated as she toured the bridge, turning on computers with her now-recognized ID and familiarizing herself with the interface.
“This is amazing,” she said out loud, letting her hand trace over the controls. “Can’t wait to feel you move.”
“So, what do you think?” It was Raileo Lei, who looked to have been doing some exploring himself.
“What do I think? I can’t. I’ve never been on a corvette, but now that I have, I don’t want to not be on a corvette ever again. Have you been below-deck yet?”
“I have. Did a quick tour with Tutt, and we agree with you. This is amazing. The captain went all out in giving us this beauty. From what I hear of Commander Mec’s record as a Nighthawk, he deserves this. Now it’s up to the rest of us to make him not regret it. Ate, you really need to take the tour.” He whistled. “You think that this bridge is impressive?”
“Not just the bridge but the combination of bridge and CIC. This is an old Vestalian command center in the style our ancestors adopted from the Genesians. Can you imagine how it will be when it’s just the four of us here, giving each other schtill? Still not impressed? Alright, then, tell me,” she said, and stood akimbo, like a parent waiting for her child to explain his lousy grade.
“Alright, to start, we have a big medbay with eight beds, a small tank, and lots of strange equipment. We have a good-sized mess with two meal dispensers, a coffee maker—you know how important that is—and the heads… oh, Ate, you’re going to really, really like this. The heads have individual showers with doors and opaque glass. This vessel is a luxury yacht on the inside, though…” He stopped and rubbed at his neck. “I didn’t find any cryo-pods below. Did you see them on the bridge?”
“Cryo-pods?” Helga laughed. “Oh, Ray, A corvette doesn’t need them. Cryo is a solution for managing time on an overcrowded ship. There’s what, four of us now? Twenty-four, if Cilas has his way? I know that you look forward to all that sleep, but trust me when I tell you that you won’t miss it. Speaking of sleep, how’s the berthing?”
“Stacked, three bunks to a wall, eighteen total in the same compartment. There’s three personal compartments with a bed in each, and a locker for personal items. The other spacers in the stacked room have their lockers outside of their compartment. I’m hoping those are ours: me, you, and Tutt. Any new Nighthawks will just have to settle on being close and comfy.”
“What about Cilas?”
Raileo grinned. “The entire upper deck is the captain’s quarters and partial wardroom. It even has its own meal dispenser. There’s VIP berthing and a head, exclusive to the captain. If Cilas doesn’t want to come down for a year, he would still be comfortable. Can you imagine?”
“Lucky,” Helga whispered.
“Lucky,” Raileo said.
“Captain on the deck,” came a shout from behind them, as Quentin Tutt emerged onto the bridge. As if programmed to react, both Helga and Raileo faced the rear, standing at attention to meet the captain. They stood like this for a few seconds before Cilas Mec emerged. Helga looked at Quentin Tutt, not really sure if he was being serious about this whole protocol. He was rigid, just like they were, and she rolled her eyes, annoyed that she would be doing this for Cilas.
“Come on Nighthawks, none of this schtill,” Cilas said, and threw an obscene gesture at Quentin Tutt. When the big man started roaring and they both began to laugh, Helga felt her cheeks get tight as she fought back the expletives she wanted to throw at them. Oh, how she felt like a fool standing like a good cadet for Cilas Mec, but it was a joke, from Quentin of all people. I’m going to get you for this one, Tutt, she promised.
Cilas came up and touched her shoulder as he walked by, and there was something about it that sent shivers down Helga’s spine. Is it a Seeker thing? she wondered, or are these old feelings resurfacing to shake me? He took a seat in the chair, and Helga had to admit, it looked right. There was something about the way he sat that exuded the confidence of a
wartime captain.
“Maker, Cilas,” she said. “What did we do to deserve this ship?”
“It’s not what we’ve done, Helga, it’s what we are meant to do. This is trust, from Captain Sho, that we can continue to be effective.”
He even sounded like a captain, and it was bringing out emotions that Helga couldn’t decipher. Descending the walkway to the cockpit, she found the galaxy’s most comfortable chair. It felt so good that she instantly knew that for many cycles to come, this would be her bed.
Pushing up on her elbows, she surveyed the two vacant seats next to hers. The Ursula could eventually have three pilots. Helga didn’t know what to think about that. The way she flew was unorthodox, and to hear constant critique would get old rather quick. They’re going to have to be freaks like me, she thought, grinning, knowing that the decision would always fall to her.
“Everyone set?” Cilas shouted. “Loved ones kissed, belongings stowed? Speak now or cry later, because once we’re gone you won’t see the Rendron for quite a long time.” He waited for someone to say something, but the Nighthawks merely exchanged glances with one another. “Okay, Ate, if you can take us out, the system will start the calculations for syncing a jump to Sanctuary.”
Helga touched the controls and literally jumped when it sent a jolt of electricity through her body. The bio-exchange link had been made and she wasn’t ready for it, but now she had access to the ship’s system and could begin the sequence for launch.
She activated a series of terminals to see what was loaded on the dock. There was the Ursula’s dropship, an R60 Thundercat, and her Vestalian Classic, refueling in the corner of the space. “Everyone’s luggage on board?” she shouted and waited for confirmation. She then went through a sequence of preliminary checks before signaling to the Rendron that she was ready.
“Find a seat, Nighthawks, and strap in. This is my first time meeting this girl, so she’s bound to be wobbly on her feet.”
The system was ready and on the comms, Helga made sure she had clearance to leave the ship. She made a call to the dock and gave her ID to get them to open the doors. This too came through quickly, and the alarms went off as the interior bulkheads became shielded in preparation for the loss in atmosphere.
The doors opened slowly as the lights began to flash and the computers rambled statistics in her ear. She engaged the landing gear and the big ship hovered, clearing the flight stick, which Helga tilted and applied some thrust to in order to lift them from the deck and forward. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the portal open. Then she heard, “Ursula, you’re cleared for launch,” and she leveled them out and applied max thrust to eject them from the Rendron.
By the time any of them could react to the launching, they were so far from the Rendron that it was no longer present on the star map. “How fast is this thing?” Cilas said, surprised. “I mean, good launch, Helga, that was tops, but I swear the stars were lines just now the way we jumped from our ship. Is that the ship, or is that one of those ace things?”
“A bit of both,” Helga said. “They’ll want to kill me for doing it, but I wanted to be away from that thyping ship.”
“Hear, hear,” Quentin said, laughing.
“So, how long is our travel time?” Cilas said.
“It’s still working; these settings are encoded. The Alliance is really serious about protecting the location of Sanctuary,” Helga said. “Oh, there it is. Hmm, there goes the luck. We’re looking at thirty-five cycles at light speed. If I was to guess, Cilas, we’re going back out to the ink. Makes sense to hide a station there in unknown space, particularly in a sector where ships disappear. I’m a bit concerned, but I will trust our captain. Just wanted to say it, so there, I said it.”
“Thirty-five cycles, that’s nothing,” Cilas said. “Try doing a hundred and fifty in a pod no bigger than this bridge.”
“How in the worlds did you all not go mad?” Raileo said, and Helga could imagine the look on his face.
“We talked, and we watched vids on our personal devices. Brise Sol, our engineer, he programmed things to keep us safe from the predators. Cilas trained; you know, muscles are key for survival in space.” She smiled as he shook his head at her. “And I watched the Geralos send ships to the surface to search in vain for their troops. Seeing those ships launch gave me a bitter sort of happiness, because I knew how stupid they’d feel to learn that they had been outdone by humans. I watched them, cycle after cycle; I suppose I was going a wee bit mad. But Cilas was our anchor. He’d pull me back by giving me trivia on the Navy and all of our standards. He wouldn’t let us forget them.”
“That, and we were not able to grow bored,” Cilas said. “We were constantly afraid. It was an unsettling bit of paranoia. All it would take was a shot from one of those lizards and we would have been toast. That sort of thought stayed on our minds. We were in a modified escape pod, and it had no shields. Damn thing barely had any navigation, but Helga here made it work.”
“Well my hats off to the two of you. You’re tougher than starship hulls, that’s for sure,” Quentin said. “So, we’re going to get time with this new toy. Sounds like biscuits in fruit sauce. Oh, Commander, er Captain, I was wondering about the private compartments below deck—”
“Cilas is preferred, since we’re operators and brothers. I know that it’s hard for you Marines to drop the act. The compartments are yours; it’s the least I can do for your commitment to me and this team,” he said. “It will be a while before we have new members so, by all means, stake your claims. Helga, are we on course now?”
“No sir, not yet. It wants us far from mother before it decodes. I bet the captain set this, considering the traitors we’ve had on the Rendron. He doesn’t want any transmissions or spies or stowaways getting access to someone on the ship. How sad, but yeah, we have a few more minutes before it automates.”
“Feel free to move around, Nighthawks. You only need to sit when our pilot is being creative with the launch.” Cilas gave her a smirk, then got up to follow the other men towards the mess.
23
Leadership and command. It was a subject Cilas Mec knew well, but for all the confidence he had in his position as leader of the Nighthawks, taking the helm of the Ursula was giving him a severe case of nerves.
It was the third shift, three hours in, but unlike the other Nighthawks, he was still wide awake. The entire first cycle on their trip to Sanctuary had been spent exploring every meter of the ship for possible stowaways and tracking devices. Now the Nighthawks were locked inside their berths, sleeping, reading, or playing on their personal devices.
He had an entire deck to himself but he didn’t feel ready to go up there just yet, so he sat down in his captain’s chair and studied the readouts on the display. “Well, here I am,” he whispered, exhaling to release the weight from his heavy heart. Here he was in a position that many officers spent a lifetime working to obtain, and what had he done to earn it? Kill whoever the captain asked him to?
No, that was unfair. He had led multiple operators into impossible situations and had emerged as one of the top leaders in the field. Still, despite these tremendous accolades, he didn’t feel comfortable in this role. How did he qualify, and didn’t this mean that his future would be the bureaucracy instead of the fieldwork he enjoyed?
Thinking back on Meluvia, when they carried out a mission for the captain of the Aqnaqak, he came to several conclusions as to why he had been elevated so quickly. First, he had come across intelligence that outlined high-level secrets that could damage the Alliance council. Second, there was his relationship with Captain Retzo Sho, who had been his supporter from day one. These two items together made him think that this mission—like all of their missions—had another purpose that he hadn’t been told.
While it was essential to get Bira to the Alliance’s top scientists, they could have just placed her in cryo and programmed an unmanned vessel to take her to Sanctuary’s secret location. Nighthawks were as
sassins, specialists in covert ops, and they were being sent to the most coveted headquarters of the Anstractor Alliance.
There had been traitors, and there had been sabotage, all of this culminating in an incident that could have cost the Alliance the Rendron. Was there corruption at the highest level, and were they being sent to root it out? After mulling this over for several long moments, Cilas became angry with Retzo Sho. If his instincts were correct—and he could feel it deep inside his bones—it would be his most challenging mission, especially if they expected to make it out.
He wondered how the other Nighthawks would take it when they learned that they had been given a suicide mission. Tutt would see it through, with little concern for the negatives, but with Helga and Raileo he would need to be careful.
“I’m tired of overthinking things,” he whispered dismissively. The captain was hard and kept them busy, but he would never willingly send them in with no way out. He felt miserably low, and could no longer sit inside that chair. His mind went back to Joy, and how they had argued about his assignment. She was supportive, but didn’t try to hide her concern for him dying in the field.
They had argued and she resorted to giving him the silent treatment, but she surprised him on the cycle before their launch when she had climbed into his bed. In the hours that followed they had talked at length about what they both believed in, and the painful topic of sacrifice.
Joy had confided in him her continuous struggle to put herself second to the Alliance. Her career had stalled due to the Inginus being destroyed, and her team was forced to find a place on the already crowded Rendron. Becoming CAG was always her destiny, and she had thought it lost with the infiltrator, but Retzo Sho had remembered, and her work was not for naught. In a few months she would be assigned to SoulSpur in the third seat to its commander, as CAG, and her Revenants would be left in the capable hands of Millicent Ral.