by Greg Dragon
Helga spent time in the simulation room, flying virtual dropships through random disasters and scenarios, committing good reactions to muscle memory. Cilas and Quentin would sometimes spar, going over all manner of combat situations. Once personal training was done, they would go up to the galley and Chief Mas-Umbra would have something delicious prepared.
Team drills came after the meal, which were typically breach-and-clear exercises. Today Helga skipped it to see Dr. Cleia Rai’to, who had left a note on her rack to come and visit. The note had been the classical sugar-sweet Cleia, neatly wrapped and scented, despite the language being stilted. She had wanted to stay, loving the physical activity, though she remembered how just last year she would have hated these drills.
Three missions of staring death in the face had taught her to respect the readiness that repetitive training instilled. Forgetting a step, slipping on a breach, or having poor aim were things that a Nighthawk couldn’t afford to do. One mistake could cost the life of another, a reality that they had all experienced.
“Helga, a moment,” she heard Cilas call, and she hurried over to where he and Ina stood on the raised central area of the bridge where the large starmap loomed next to the captain’s station. “Got a message from Sunny. He’ll be missing this trip. Something about a trial he has to undertake to win enough favor to be in good standing with the Jumper agency. He didn’t write much, but told me to inform you that he will be here with you in spirit.”
Helga was stunned. “This trip? Did he mean Genesian space, or is he saying we may not see him until our return to Rendron, whenever that is? Um, Commander,” she said, adding the title, since they were within earshot of the crew.
“Sounded mysterious, as with everything Jumpers do. You know how it is. Lamia Brafa was the same. Before you came on he would return to their headquarters on Virulia to do trials, whatever that means. Always came back better though, martially. He was the best of us, as you recall, but the Lamia you knew was a deadlier version than the man I met when we were first given the Nighthawks moniker.”
“I miss him,” Helga said. “Only knew him for a heartbeat, but his words and kindness bolstered me when I needed it.”
“Can you give us a moment, Lieutenant?” Cilas whispered to Ina, and the redheaded lieutenant obliged. She saluted, then made her way past Helga, touching her shoulder as she headed back to the galley. “You and Sunny are close,” he spoke in a hushed tone so that only she could hear. “You and Lamia were close as well. It makes me think that you’ve shown interest in becoming a Jumper. Is that correct?”
Helga looked around to see if anyone could still be eavesdropping, annoyed that he would ask her something so private in the middle of CIC. She flashed him a look of contempt, hoping he’d pick up on her meaning, but Cilas merely stood looking at her, his hands tucked into the small of his back as he waited patiently for her reply.
What was she to do? Tell him that she liked Jumpers because they were sworn to protect people like her? Reveal to him that she was one of those with the blood that the Geralos sought? Reveal that the only reason she was spared on Dyn was because her Casanian blood made it dangerous for the lizards to devour her brain?
How would he take it? How would their relationship change? That latter question made the truth so difficult to share. Helga the Nighthawk was a spacer, pilot, and team member. Helga the Seeker would become a protected asset. The Alliance would want to keep her safe, run tests on her blood, and treat her like something other than the Nighthawk she had fought hard to become.
“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Cilas pressed, still speaking low. “Something to do with your luckiness. Sunny merely tolerates the rest of the team; with you he has been like a teacher or mentor. That’s why it’s been bothering me. Hel, if you show interest and they deem you worthy, they will send for you, and the Alliance isn’t supposed to get in the way of that. Jumpers hold a higher authority, but as you can see, their lives are complicated.”
“I don’t want to become a Jumper, Commander. Lamia showed me the las-sword, and I developed an interest in them. He was kind to me while everyone else jeered. It wasn’t anything terrible like the cadet academy, but I felt very alone back then. When he did what he did, it crushed me, but my memories of him are all good. Those kind eyes, and the way he would correct my mistakes without making me feel foolish or hopeless. When I met Sunny, he was different. Rougher around the edges.” Helga had to smile at the memory. “Despite all that, he was the same. Accepted me for who I was, showed me how to use meditation to deal with some of my stress, and told me things about the universe that only a Jumper would know. I do value his friendship.”
Cilas looked at her skeptically, as if he suspected it was something more but didn’t want to push the question in this instance. Helga wondered if this was jealousy, though it didn’t make sense. There had been nothing below board about the time she spent with Sundown, and she had even informed Cilas, so that he knew about their relationship.
“I knew a woman, Calypso Rein, she led a rebellion on a hub above Traxis, an assignment given to the Nighthawks to quell.” Cilas leaned against the back of his large captain’s chair, his eyes on the deck as he summoned the memory. “She was a lot like you. Strong but tortured, extremely sarcastic, but with a penchant for jumping into fire, which I attributed to the fact that she was gifted. Our mission was to disarm her rebels and bring her back to the Alliance for questioning, but do you know what she told me when we finally caught up with her? She said, you can go ahead and kill me. I would rather die here than suffer what the Alliance will put me through if they learn what I am.”
Helga’s eyes grew wide, but she tried to conceal it by blinking quickly. But it was too late; he had picked up on her mannerisms. “This Calypso, she was a Seeker then? You are saying you met a Seeker. Wow, that’s something, Commander, and to think just a few cycles earlier, I was under the impression that you didn’t believe in them.”
“I do hope to earn your trust someday, Hel. That is all. I’m no Jumper, but I hope to become someone you can trust, like Lamia. It still burns me up thinking of how I was unconscious on Dyn when you more than anyone needed me. The way you helped Raileo on Meluvia, and the way we will help Anders come into his own, that’s what Nighthawks are about, and I feel I failed you somehow.”
“Commander, you cannot apologize for being injured,” Helga said, desperate to move the conversation away from Dyn. “Were you able to get Calypso to the Alliance?”
“No, she was taken by Lamia Brafa to Virulia. Apparently there’s a secret settlement for Seekers that only Jumpers know where to find. The rest is classified, but the op was struck, so no one but me and now you knows about it,” he winked. “Don’t worry about Sunny. He’ll be back before you know it, and I look forward to seeing what you can do with a las-sword after you’re finished training.”
“I am not training with a las-sword,” Helga quickly objected, but caught herself early before he found a way to expose what it was she hid from him.
“I know,” he said, smiling, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I just don’t want you to worry about Sundown. He survived a year on Sanctuary all by himself, and while he’s no Lamia, his skill is amazing. Just put it out of your mind and he will be back with us, quicker than you think. Now, I’ve held you long enough. Just remember that I’m here if there’s anything you’d like to share. Are you off to the galley?”
“Off to medbay to see the good doctor,” Helga said.
“Anything I should be concerned about?” Cilas looked visibly pale, and Helga picked up on his concern and what he was suggesting.
“No,” she said a bit loudly. “I mean, no, no, this is social. I’m healthy, and there’s no need for speculation where that is concerned.”
“Oh, well, do enjoy your visit then,” he said. Helga wanted to strangle him. Cilas Mec in the span of five awkward minutes had managed to unravel every ounce of confidence she had gained from the earli
er training. Now she would be dwelling on whether or not he had known she was a Seeker this entire time, and was giving her an in to tell him.
“Commander,” she announced, touching her heart before turning to beat a quick exit from the CIC section of the bridge. She thought about everything he had said to her, and though it should have made her frightened, she smiled with some relief. She wondered at the truth of the Calypso Rein story. It wasn’t like Cilas to share that sort of detail about a past, failed assignment. It could have been his way to tell her that if he knew, he would choose her over duty and the Alliance.
With each step she grew happier, not for the talk per se, but for the support the Nighthawks had for each other. This wasn’t a team; it was more than that, and in acknowledging this it made her heart full, for this was what she’d always wanted from the Alliance.
“Dr. Rai’to,” she called upon entering the medbay, forcing Cleia Rai’to to quickly pause a holo-entry that she had been recording.
“At this rate, I am never going to get my dissertation done,” she grumbled.
“Sure you will, Doc, I believe in you,” Helga encouraged, hopping up onto one of the cots and playfully kicking her legs. “What’re you doing?” she said.
“Working on a paper about the undiscovered lifeforms that exist on our most accessible moons,” Cleia said. “It’s just unfortunate that the war and the general fear of the Geralos has effectively stunted research galaxy-wide, and it is my belief that scientists accompanying units like this one are the key to jump-starting our education.”
Helga recalled all the vicious fauna that she’d had run-ins with in the past. “Can’t say I’ve met anything worth studying on the moons that I’ve been on. They’re all thyping animals with a one-dimensional thought: eat humans, take a schtill, and multiply astronomically so that even more humans can be devoured. The same goes for the Geralos, those thyping monsters. What would we learn from anything like that? The dredge, brovila, those flying blood-sucking things on Meluvia, not to mention the bugs last mission. Uh, why don’t you write about something positive like a half-Vestalian, half-Traxian baby?”
“We agreed that you would never bring up that subject again, Helga Ate,” Cleia scolded her.
“I’m sorry, Cleia, I forgot,” Helga lied, winning her a cutting eye from the already flustered Traxian. She whipped the tentacle-like ma’lesc that at a distance resembled hair, and as they settled on her shoulders, she took a deep breath and resumed her work.
“I do wish we had brought back a sample of those creatures you fought on Argan-10,” Cleia said, as she puzzled over a slide with one hand on her hip, the other holding a mug.
“Szilocs,” Helga said, smiling, amused by her ignorance of what they went through on the surface. “Getting samples would have made sense if we weren’t being swarmed and running for our lives.”
“Oh,” she said, turning to Helga, her freckled blue skin becoming lighter. “I wasn’t presuming anything of your mission, Helga. And…” She paused, seeming to grow more flustered. “Ray told me nothing about that moon, only that there were ‘bugs as large as a man.’ He said there were hundreds of them. Nothing about being chased or being in danger—Does he think I cannot handle hearing the truth?”
Oh, thype I’ve flown into it now, Helga thought, annoyed with herself for not playing dumb. Now she’s going to light into Ray, and I will hear about it, blamed for the fussing he’s going to get later on. How do I walk this back? “Cleia, we are Nighthawks, who are reminded that every mission is classified, even to fellow crew members. Raileo cares about you, but he took the same oath I did, and knowing you, he likely didn’t trust himself to only give you partial information.”
The Traxian studied Helga’s face for a time before returning to her hologram, as if arguing was hopeless. “You always protect him.” She sighed. “Even from me. You think that I will confront him. It may surprise you, but I never planned to bring it up. This is between the two of us, just women talking, off-the-record as you like to say. Arguing with Raileo would be me trying to change him, and that isn’t my aim. I am just surprised and disappointed. You told me about the Geralos mutant, so why not the Szilocs as well?”
“If he’s anything like me, he would have forced himself to forget that nightmare as soon as we boarded the Thundercat. They were disgusting, rabid spider monsters, and they put us all to a test that we were barely ready for,” Helga admitted. “Couldn’t you have pulled samples and DNA from our PAS suits?”
Cleia Rai’to shook her head slowly. “Yes, had I known that you fought a creature native to that moon. My mind was on Geralos, because that is what you all told me that you encountered.”
Helga rubbed at her chin as she observed the smaller woman. “‘I wonder how you’d fare in the field, grabbing your samples and patching us up?”
“You think me braver that I am,” Cleia demurred, her skin flushing powdery blue. “I appreciate the confidence, but I am no adventurer. I am a scientist first, and then doctor. If I am ever in this so-called field, it will be in the aftermath, not before. I intend to live a long life, adding to the Alliance’s knowledge base and traveling around the galaxy.”
“Based on your species, you’ll outlive all of us anyway,” Helga offered, but immediately regretted it when the doctor’s skin took on a deeper shade.
“That isn’t funny,” Cleia said. “I don’t like to joke about that. I am here by myself, with no other Traxian. Everyone else is human. My twilight years will see me alone with all of my friends dead and gone.”
“Okay, bad joke,” Helga said. “But I have to admit, I’m surprised. It’s not my call to approve you to follow us on drops, but even if it was, I would think you would jump at the chance to see a new moon and all the creatures on its surface and below.”
“Of course I would, but then I would come to my senses and decline.” Cleia sighed, her large, black eyes widening at the concept. “I do like that you thought of me, Lieutenant, and hope that you think of me when you’re out there. You should remember to grab me samples from wherever you travel next.”
“I will remember,” Helga assured her. “The next thing new that tries to consume me, I will put a hole in its skull and collect some of the gray matter for your beaker.”
“Now you’re just being cruel,” the doctor protested, though her smile betrayed her attempt at feigning offense.
A buzz sounded in her ear and Helga groaned, knowing what it was without having to answer. “Duty calls, Cleia. I’ll leave you to whatever that complicated blob of glyphs and characters are that you seem obsessed with. Oh, we have a full crew now. Are you excited about getting them into your database for health check-ups and all that doctory business?” She stuck out her tongue as she made to exit.
“Already done,” Cleia took a momentary pause to get the last word in. “The benefit of being on a starship is that they all had to go through steps before coming on board. One of those steps happened to be a conference with me, where I got to prod them with needles and verify their medical history. All of those little annoyances that you love. Oh, and before I forget, Lieutenant, you are due a check-up, and I’ve been looking through your psych—”
“Thype, but you’re relentless,” Helga said, stopping at the door to regard her. The doctor met her gaze bravely, exhibiting a confidence that hadn’t been there when the women first met. She was practically gloating, relishing the power she had over the Lieutenant, her tilted smile becoming a wide grin, cute but predatory, a description that could be applied to any Traxian due to their elongated eye-teeth. Cleia Rai’to hurting anyone was a stretch, however, even for Helga’s vivid imagination.
“When I come for that checkup, you better have some of that tea of yours brewing,” Helga said.
“I always do, don’t I?” Cleia winked, and with that, Helga waved, and was out the door.
10
Slipping through a three-dimensional wormhole at Faster-than-light, a phenomenon kn
own as “jumping,” the Ursula emerged in a region of Genesian space. Slowing to supercruise speed to allow the crystal-core generator to go into standby and cool itself, the blast shields lifted, and cheers went up throughout the vessel.
Ina Reysor looked over at Helga, but the Nighthawk was busy, studying a miniature starmap. On it was a patchwork of stations, scattered about the space, each holding a colony of workers living out their terms with their families. Traveling back and forth to the planet were a number of merchant vessels, some being shuttles carrying temps to work a season on the stations. Needless to say, the place was busy, and patrols were everywhere, keeping the shuttles guarded from Geralos invaders and the occasional pirate.
“This is madness,” Helga complained to Ina, who had removed her restraints to lean over far enough to examine the details of the hologram.
“What are you seeing?” Ina asked.
“On the far side of the station ring, here.” Helga increased the size of the starmap to point to a region near the edge. “Those flashing lights, I recognize them. It’s a poor man’s cloak. Something is onto us. Must’ve seen the rupture signal when we came out of FTL. Uh! This is unlucky, generator’s cooling, and we barely have the power to maintain supercruise let alone juggle shields and impact power.”
“Incoming hail from unknown vessel,” the system announced, and before Helga could ask, Cilas was speaking into her earpiece, telling her to patch it in.
The voice of a male Genesian came over the intercom in a language Helga couldn’t understand. Once he had finished speaking, Ursula’s system translated his words, mimicking his voice close enough to have it sound as if he repeated his demand in the universal tongue. “Captain of the corvette, drop your thrusts, we will not hurt your crew, all we seek is your cargo. Allow us to board and take what we want, and you can leave unharmed with your ship.”