Oblivion: The Complete Series (Books 1-9)
Page 113
Ben sat at the base of the statue that had been built in honor of his father, Captain Lee Saito. He nursed one of the AIC beers that Thorne had gifted him. Ada sat alongside him with a beer of her own. They looked out over the gigantic Hero’s Square, built where one of the Shapeless flagships had fallen just months ago.
“So what now?”
Ben reached into his pocket. He took out the Polaroid of him and his parents on the boardwalk when he was a kid. Despite being reminded of the other, more negative things that had happened that day, he chose to remember the good parts.
“Where’d you get that?” asked Ada.
“I have no idea. I lost mine years ago. This one came in the mail yesterday.”
Ada frowned. “You don’t think—"
“I don’t want to think about it. If he’s alive, then he deserves whatever peace he wants. If he’s dead, well, he found the peace he wanted since mom died. So either way, I don’t want to know.”
They sat together like that, hand-in-hand, saying nothing for several minutes. Ben felt the cool breeze on his face. Earth’s unpredictable weather was becoming a problem. Everything about the moonless planet was becoming a problem. The future was as much in doubt as ever.
Finally, Ben sighed and took a swig of his beer. “Was it all worth it?”
Ada cocked her head and looked out into the darkness, letting the gusty winds blow through her long hair. “In the end, it was.” She put her arm around him. “We did what had to be done.”
Ben nodded. He didn’t see any of the ghosts out here. None of the Shapeless dreams of fallen friends and family. It was just him and Ada. “And in the end, that’s all you can do.”
He hopped down off the base of the statue, helped Ada do the same, and then together they took one last look up at the statue of Captain Lee Saito.
Then they walked off together, still hand-in-hand.
Bonus Story
This short story is a new addition to the Oblivion cannon. It was originally written for an SF anthology but we’re including it here. Hope you enjoy it!
Note: While this isn’t a prequel necessarily, the events of this story definitely take place prior to Book 1.
Madeline
Grace Silva glanced at her dead co-pilot, slumped over with entrails dangling out of his eviscerated chest, and knew she was in trouble.
Her MT-322 Madeline mining transport was closing in on Reach Station, one of the furthest stations in AIC space. When she arrived with a gutted co-pilot, three dead people in the cargo bay, and her best friend tied up in the cockpit behind her, there might be a few questions to be answered.
How the hell are you going to explain this?
Normally, Grace would’ve switched Madeline to autopilot at this point, but not this time. She took the sticks and flew manual. Anything to get her mind off the nightmare around her. Maybe the focus would help her think.
As she followed the holographic trail laid out ahead of her, Grace heard the sound of the chair under her dead co-pilot, Dash, as it swiveled toward her. It was her imagination. It had to be.
“Grace?”
She refused to acknowledge Dash. That’s not him. That’s not real. Ignore it. It’ll go away.
“Grace, you can’t ignore this.” She could hear his guts dragging on the floor as he swiveled back and forth.
“Watch me,” she said curtly, without turning.
Am I asleep? Is this a nightmare? She’d asked herself the same question a hundred times. The answer was always the same, but she kept asking it anyway. What else could it be?
Grace had a hard time remembering when she’d last gotten any sleep. She hadn’t gotten a wink since they’d found that damned rock among their cargo. The rock wouldn’t let her.
“What are you going to do?” asked Dash.
“I don’t know, okay? I’m going to figure something out,” Grace snapped.
“This doesn’t look good,” Dash said.
“Yes, thank you, I’m aware.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going back home.”
Dash laughed, but it was a labored, pained laugh. In many ways it sounded a bit disturbing all in itself.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t really think there’s any going home right now, do you?”
Grace could just barely see Dash’s reflection in Madeline’s front viewing window. She half expected him to be talking, but his lifeless body hadn’t budged.
“Where else would I go?”
“Anywhere but Reach Station, full of Grace. You go there and the Frontier Police will fire you out an airlock before you can even begin to defend yourself. You know that.”
It was true. Grace, like many residents and workers at Reach Station, saw the public executions meted out by the Frontier Police. Most were military burnouts, or even former raiders and pirates, used by the colonial government to keep their far-flung properties operational and profitable.
“I know that. But once they see the rock…”
“Once they see the rock, what? They’ll just overlook the dead crew in the cargo hold, the hog-tied woman behind you and whatever the hell’s left of me? Yup, that’s what will happen. They’ll come to the obvious conclusion that it’s the rock’s fault.”
“Shut up.”
“How can I shut up if I’m not even talking? This is all in your head, Grace.”
Grace managed to force herself to look over at the mangled remains of Dash slumped over in his co-pilot’s seat. The color had left his skin, along with almost all of his blood and his intestines.
What is wrong with me?
Grace wiped the sweat from her forehead and returned her attention to space. It was all in her head, she told herself. Not that that made her feel any better about anything.
As far as Grace was concerned, she only had a few options. The first and least desirable was to scuttle her cargo and expel the bodies from inside Madeline. Once they were gone, she’d lock Aliza in the cargo bay and make a run for the nearest UEF station, military or civilian. In exchange for not being arrested or killed, she would give them, the enemy, any information she had on Reach Station and the other AIC mining facilities like it spread throughout the galaxy. They always wanted to know more about the AIC supply lines.
The only problem was that Grace, like many who lived under the umbrella of the AIC, had lost friends and family to the war. In their eyes—and her eyes, too—the UEF was pure evil. She didn’t trust them, nor should she. She couldn’t bring herself to go that route.
Grace’s second option was to simply disappear. The galaxy was a big place. She could simply do the same, as if she was going to defect to the UEF, but instead of going to a military-controlled facility, she could go to a Sanctuary City. They wouldn’t ask questions.
The third option was for Grace to go back to Reach Station. Though it was quite possibly a perilous option, one that could lead to her death, that was where her life was. For the past seven years she’d called the mining facility home. Even the prospect of leaving it sounded terrifying.
There was a loud beeping noise inside Madeline’s cabin. The red flashing light on the instruments in front of Grace was impossible to ignore. She knew what it was. It was an indicator that the ship was being hailed.
“Damn,” Grace said under her breath as she saw that the mining ship was flanked on both sides by AIC fighters. She had no idea why they were there or what they wanted.
Surely they couldn’t know. Could they?
“They know,” said Dash.
“There’s no way.”
“Maybe one of the cargo monkeys in the back alerted them before being, you know, slaughtered.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe Aliza called them.”
“She didn’t.”
“Maybe I did.”
Grace looked over at Dash, who was still completely motionless, head slung low, eyes still wide with the shock of certain death.
“MT-322, please state your destination,” ordered one of the pilots in a curt, but not unfriendly, tone.
Keep it together, Grace.
“Reach Station. We just delivered cargo to Vassar-1,” Grace lied. They never reached the AIC capitol. Their cargo bay was still full of space rock.
“MT-322, transport logs show that you were supposed to arrive at the capitol, dock seventy-two echo, eight hours ago. You never did. State your reason.”
Grace closed her eyes for a moment and dug deep for a lie. How much would these pilots know? Surely nothing in real-time. “Reach Station ordered cargo returned just before we docked. It was the damnedest thing. Don’t know why. I’ve been trying to get an answer, but they just wanted me to come in.”
After an agonizingly long pause, the pilot said, “MT-322, please proceed to turn off your engines and prepare to be boarded.”
Grace sat back and took a deep breath.
“They aren’t buying it,” Dash said.
“No shit,” she snapped back.
“You can’t let them on this ship.”
“I know.”
“They’ll find them, find us, find me.”
“I know.”
“You’ll be arrested.”
“I know, I know, I know!” Grace whipped her head around to face Dash. “Can you just shut up?”
She recoiled in horror.
Dash was leaning towards her, eyes completely black. A thick, oily substance seeped through his teeth and out of his mouth.
Grace screamed.
“What do you mean, we have a problem?” asked Dash. He was talking to one of Madeline’s cargo bay workers, Franklin, through a video chat screen.
“I don’t know yet,” answered Franklin. He held a matter scanner in his hands, pointing it at the loads of space rock stored in the cargo bay. “Getting some strange energy readings off our load. Afraid we picked up some unstable rock.”
The ore that Madeline mined, known as Iontanium, was valuable, and only found in the far-flung reaches of space. Reach Station existed to get at it. Iontanium was integral in the building of advanced spaceships and weaponry. AIC tech was essentially dependent on the material to function, at least at the capacity so that they could match the overwhelming numbers that the UEF sent their way.
There was one big problem with Iontanium. Once clear of the natural habitat that it formed within, it grew increasingly unstable. At some point, without any intervention, it would explode. More than a few transports had fallen victim to the mercurial metal—and in one famous incident, an entire space station.
There were methods to mitigate this outcome, of course, and the Madeline was equipped with plenty of countermeasures. Still, nobody slept soundly when there was Iontanium onboard.
“It’s just Franklin being panicky Franklin,” murmured Aliza, the third person on the Madeline’s bridge, loudly enough that Grace was sure that the cargo man would hear. “We’ll be fine.”
“Maybe,” Grace said. It was easy for Aliza to dismiss everything. She naturally believed everything would work out fine. She’d been that way for as long as Grace had known her and, frustratingly for Grace, things always did seem to work out for Aliza. But Grace was captain on this haul, so it was her call.
“I’m not trying to become space dust out here,” Dash said. “At least, not yet.”
“Oh, so you have a date in mind for when that’s okay?” Aliza asked.
“When I’m old like you,” Dash said.
Aliza took a swing at him, but he ducked away. At most, she was five years older than Dash; but he was just a kid, and enjoyed turning the screw on the ever-vain Aliza.
“Can you pipe up the readings?” Grace said loudly enough that the communicator would pick up her voice.
Franklin shook his head. “On this old bird? I’d be better off walking them up to you.”
“Tell you what,” Aliza said as she got up out of her seat. She yawned and stretched her back. Then she took the opportunity to thump Dash on the back of the head.
“Ow! Cap, did you see that? Your crewmember is violently out of control.”
Grace shook her head, saying nothing.
Aliza was already heading to the back of the bridge. “I’ll go take a look. Be nice to get off this bridge.” She glanced at Grace. “I can grab some coffee and grub too, if you’re interested.”
“I’ll come with,” said Grace as she too unbuckled herself from her chair and stood up.
Dash looked put out. “And I guess that means I’m not going anywhere?”
“That’s exactly what it means,” responded Grace with a smile as she joined Aliza at the rear hatch.
“Whatchu want from the mess?” Aliza asked.
“We still got any of those tamales your momma baked?”
“We do, but…” Aliza guarded her tamales with her life, at least under normal circumstances. However, this day, she was apparently feeling a little more generous. “Fine. You can have one.”
“And a coffee?” shouted Dash after them.
“This kid,” Aliza said, shaking her head.
“Gracias!”
“Let’s go see what the hell Franklin is blathering about,” Aliza said as she and Grace climbed out of Madeline’s bridge. The design of the mining ship was such that the bridge craned far above the rest of the ship, offering good sightlines during regular mining operations. It also meant getting out of the bridge was a hassle.
There was a long ladder down a narrow tube they had to descend to access the rest of the vessel. Beyond that was a long corridor. Every other part of MT-322 branched out from there. The cargo bay was at the very end.
“How many more of these do we have in us, Liz?” asked Grace as they made their way down Madeline’s main corridor.
“Do you mean how many more can we take, or how many more do we have to go?”
“Yes,” Grace said.
She and Aliza had a plan. Together, they’d decided that they’d save enough colonial credits from their work at Reach Station to make a permanent move. They’d not only live on solid ground, on a planet, but on a tropical one with safe warm waters that was far from the Universal War. It was called Jai Prime. Aliza had a vid cube of it next to her bunk.
“Well, let’s see. This load will take care of the payment on our tickets. Then we’ll need a few more to afford that unit near the beach. So I’m guessing like four or five until we can leave.”
“Really? That many?” Grace playfully grabbed Aliza by her arm and leaned down on it. “I thought we were almost done.”
“I mean, we are. Kinda. Just a couple more weeks. Maybe a month. And then we can start planning for fun under three suns.” Aliza stopped in front of the entrance to the mess hall, the kitchen. “I’m gonna throw those tamales in. You want one?”
“I’d like to check this shit out in the cargo bay first,” Grace said.
“We’re right here!” Aliza said. “Let’s just eat. I bet that dumbass is reading it wrong. Why did we take him on again?”
Grace followed Aliza into the kitchen. “We needed a third pair of hands back there.”
“And he’s your brother-in-law.”
“And he’s my brother-in-law. He’s not that bad,” Grace said, knowing how defensive she sounded. Franklin wasn’t terribly bright. That much was true, and she had no idea why her sister had married him. But he was nice enough.
“Not a bad person? Sure. But he is a bad cargo monkey.” Aliza took out a thin container with the tamales her mom had made them before leaving. She had the option of throwing them into an instant cooker or into an old wall-mounted oven. She preferred the oven.
“He gets the job done.”
“I guess so. These are gonna take a few. Wanna go see what your bro did wrong?” Aliza had a wide grin.
“Might as well.”<
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Grace and Aliza headed towards the cargo bay, the only locked portion of Madeline’s interior. The former entered in the code to open the thick secured double doors. The latter yawned.
“Grace!” Franklin must’ve been sitting by the doors, waiting for her to arrive. “Er, I mean, Captain.”
“So what’s going on with the matter scanners?” asked Grace as she and Aliza entered the cargo bay.
“You’re doing it wrong, aren’t you?” Aliza asked.
“No,” Franklin said crossly to her.
“So there’s a malfunction?” Grace asked.
“That’s what I thought at first.” Franklin looked a bit flustered.
Grace was used to that from him. It seemed to be his default. “Let’s all go take a look,” she said.
Franklin led them towards the storage area of the cargo bay. Janet and Mr. Kim, the two other cargo minders, kept their distance and stayed busy with their own work. Grace had a feeling they didn’t want to get involved with Franklin’s incompetence, but their conspiratorial glances seemed to convey something deeper.
But Grace chalked it up to avoiding a potential volatile load situation. Nobody wanted to contribute to a lost payday. Mining transport teams only got paid if they delivered.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Aliza said as she held the scanner in the direction of the stored rock bins in Madeline’s cargo bay. “He’s right.”
The thick, clear containers were filled to the brim in order to maximize profit with each trip. It would be impossible to make out any specific strata of rock within.
“Lemme see,” Grace took the scanner from Aliza. The energy levels were off the charts. It didn’t feel right. If the readings were right, they should’ve already blown up by then. “This can’t be…” She smacked the scanner against her leg. She looked again, but nothing had changed.