Unsanctioned Reprisal

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Rebecca Foster’s quarters had the best view on the ship. Some would argue that the lounge and mess hall did, since they were designed to provide breathtaking views of space from their sizable observation windows. The floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows in her quarters ensured that one of the four walls inside was always peering out into space. It was perfect for stargazing while sitting on one of the three leather couches next to a coffee table and bookshelf. It was an empty bookshelf of course, as she didn’t have time for decorating after getting command of the Kepler.

  Her bed was off in a separate room, it too had a marvelous window above the bed, though everyone’s quarters got that treatment. Adjacent to her bedroom was Foster’s personal study, consisting of a desk with a smooth and sleek surface, personal computer, and green plants from Earth next to it. She sat on the chair, navigating through the computer’s UI, reading news reports from the internet, and catching up on the large number of qmails that piled up during their month-and-a-half-long journey back to Kapteyn’s Star while she was still in cryo.

  She went to read the first message.

  To: Rebecca Foster

  From: Liana Foster

  Subject: Be safe!

  Sent: August, 28, 2118 10:33 SST

  Hey hon!

  Just writing to wish you a safe journey on your next mission. It’s a shame the military recruited you so quickly after saving our hides in Sirius, it’s been years since I’ve seen you. Oh lord, I missed you so much, please, when you are finished, swing by my place. Life might not be short anymore, but those dragons won’t hesitate to change that.

  Try not to go into cryo sleep, I’d rather not see you sleep-in again lol

  Love you,

  -- Mama.

  Foster took a two-minute break to recover from a flutter of emotions that hit her after the message, before clicking to read the remaining unread messages.

  To: Rebecca Foster

  From: Dennis Chang

  Subject: Karaoke Night

  Sent: August, 30, 2118 20:15 SST

  Foster,

  So, since we’re going to be on a direct voyage to Kapteyn’s Star at FTL, I thought it be a fun idea to host some karaoke fun and excitement in my quarters to pass the time. Hell, maybe we can make it a regular thing, you know like an after-shift sort of thing on Friday nights. I’m not sure if you’re planning to slip into cryo or not since I haven’t seen you all day, but if you’re not, and you’re reading this, swing by my quarters at 22:00.

  Peace,

  Had Chang sent the message twelve hours earlier . . . she would have taken him up on that offer, and not entered cryo.

  To: Rebecca Foster

  From: Brice Blackmar

  Subject: Meet up

  Sent: October 14, 2118 06:11 SST

  Captain,

  Greetings. My name is Brice Blackmar, commander of Amicitia Station 14. I’ll keep this message short and sweet as I have a number of tasks to attend to, and as I could imagine, you do as well. When you are free, back and safe from your current mission, I’d like to sit down and have a chat with you about an urgent matter regarding station security. It shouldn’t take any longer than an hour of your time.

  Best Regards,

  Commander Brice Blackmar, UNE Navy

  And for the last message.

  To: Rebecca Foster

  From: Lawrence Mitrovica

  Subject: Interview request

  Sent: October 14, 2118 07:32 SST

  Hello Rebecca, this is Lawrence Mitrovica, I’m a reporter from GBC News. My sources have told me you and your crew just recently completed an operation in the Kapteyn’s Star system and are on your way back now to Amicitia 14. I was wondering if it would be possible to have a quick interview with you to discuss your recent adventures, and to give the galaxy a better idea of the woman that will be spearheading the mission to end this war against the dragons.

  Please let me know at your earliest convenience when you will be arriving at the station. I’m looking forward to hearing your reply. Take care, and safe journeys!

  - Lawrence Mitrovica, Galactic Broadcasting Corporation

  The computer prompted her there were no further messages. She made a mental note not to reply to the last one. Being on camera was one the thing she was looking to avoid since her name became household. This was an era of gene therapy and the masses looking young. Foster was thirty-three, and didn’t get around to receiving gene therapy, and had no cosmetics in sight. It was the last thing she needed to bring on a mission that was dropped in her lap out of nowhere. She had doubts people in this era were used to seeing people as old as she was, Pierce alone, in his middle-age and graying hair, drew a lot of odd glares from the people of this century.

  She tapped her screen off, and its bluish hue vanished, leaving the desktop lamp to her side as the only source of light in her quarters. Amicitia Station 14 was still a few hours off. Sleep was in order, a much-needed one at that since she’d been awake more than twenty-four hours thanks to the events of the past day and multiple near-death experiences. She reached up to unzip the top of her jumpsuit uniform. Her intercom on the wall beeped, and she grunted before taking the incoming message.

  “Yes?”

  “Hey, Becca, you free to swing by my quarters for a min?” Williams’ voice over the intercom spoke.

  She zipped her top up. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.”

  Williams’ quarters weren’t far from hers, none of the crew quarters were, being all located on the top deck of the Kepler. It made her wonder what was so important, that he couldn’t swing by himself . . . or just tell her over the intercom. The door chime sounded as she pushed the side holographic interface, she was granted access to his quarters a second later.

  Canvas paintings littered his floor. Some were immaculately painted pictures of trees from Earth. Another had the sun setting into the horizon before a blue ocean, while many others simply had paintings of the stars in space. The smell of paint and the chemicals within them made her nose twitch slightly when she found Williams standing with paintbrush in hand, and a completed masterpiece before him, resting on the wooden painting easel.

  “Ha! It’s done,” he said to her. “What do you think?”

  Williams took a step back, allowing Foster to see what he had painted. It looked like a tightly packed cluster of stars in the night sky. The stars were so close it looked almost like a giant ball of white light.

  “Not bad, Dom,” Foster said. “But, uh, since when you were a painter? You couldn’t even draw stick men last time I checked.”

  “I wasn’t in cryo, got bored and self-taught myself.”

  “You got pretty good at it fast . . .”

  “Guess I had a hidden talent for it this whole time.” He went back to the painting, swiping his brush across it, adding the finishing touches to the night sky. “This helps me with the dreams.”

  “Still not back to your regular self, huh?”

  He lowered the brush and gave the painting a depressed look. “When I go to sleep, one moment I’m here, the next, I’m back in Chicago, watching my folks die.”

  “Damn it, Dom.”

  “I don’t get it; this was never a problem, until our return.”

  “My mom thinks the Draconians did somethin’ to ya during our blackout years.”

  “Have you seen her lately? Looks like she just turned eighteen, almost looks exactly like you back in the day. Caught me off guard at first, I was all like, who is this young minx?”

  “You saying I was a minx when we meet?”

  “Oh, well, uh.”

  “Dom, are you tryin’ to hit on me?”

  “No, Becca!”

  “Hitting on my mom then?”

  Foster was never good at holding back laughs and smiles when around Williams, the joke she cracked was proof of that. She wondered if his face was flushing under his dark skin.

  “I think I’m getting a little better,” he said, and then pointed to the number of wor
ks of art on the floor. “I saw all those in my dreams, well the ones where I wasn’t watching death and destruction. Every one of these I paint brings me closer to peace.”

  “So, you hauled me over here to show me that you can make pretty pictures?”

  He laughed joyfully. Foster did too, she was glad to see him experiencing positive emotions for once. He gestured to a holo pad resting on top of his bed. “I’m kinda in the zone right now, didn’t want to break it since it helps with my head. That pad has our laundry list of requisitions for the ship once we dock,” Williams said. “Note the list Chef made.”

  Foster scrolled through the contents of the holo pad. It was big list. The one from Chef Bailey alone was half of it, consisting of cooking ingredients. “How the hell we’s out of so much food?”

  “The survivors we picked up, that’s why,” he explained. “There’s a lot of hungry mouths that haven’t had a good meal since the Draconians arrived.”

  It was a fair point. The needs of the colonists rescued took priority and it had been hours since they left the system and the UNE fleet behind. “How big is the line up in the mess?” Foster asked.

  Williams snickered, keeping his eyes on his painting. “Don’t even bother.”

  “Guess I’ll eat something at the station if I’m hungry.”

  “Besides, Chevallier and her cool kids club are hanging out in the mess hall.”

  “So much for letting the survivors get fed first . . . classic soldiers.”

  “Well, not quite, they barked at Miles and told him to get lost.”

  “Oh really? Doesn’t he outrank them?”

  “He’s a Marine; they’re EDF, best of the best, elite special forces.”

  “Yeah, I read up on them more,” Foster said. “Best training, gear, and weapons for the best commandos in the UNE. Navy SEALS in space, basically what the Hammerheads were supposed to be before they were disbanded.”

  Foster tapped her wrist terminal, and then swiped across the screen of Williams’ holo pad, dragging the list he had on to hers. “Tell Chef he’ll get his goods, Dom.”

  “Cool.”

  “Oh, one last thing,” Foster said, stopping before the exit. “Why didn’t y’all tell me there was gonna be karaoke night on the off-hours before I went into cryo?”

  Another heartwarming laugh came from Williams. “Chang came up with the idea right as you went in.”

  “Any other things I should know about when I was out?”

  “Not really, it was a boring flight overall.”

  “Kostelecky to Foster,” Doctor Irena Kostelecky’s voice said over the intercom.

  Foster took the message. “Go ahead.”

  “Can you meet me in sickbay? I need to speak with you.”

  “On my way,” Foster said, and cut the communication. “I guess she’s pissed off about the wounded we brought aboard.”

  14 Peiun

  Rezeki’s Rage

  Near Morutrin wormhole, Morutrin system

  October 14, 2118, 08:58 SST (Sol Standard Time)

  The Imperial frigate, Rezeki’s Rage, poked through the wormhole’s event horizon, entering the infamous Morutrin system. Smaller and older ships native to the system ran scans of Rezeki’s Rage’s weapons and engines. They pulled away quickly, clearing a path for it, upon realizing what the ship was capable of.

  “We’ve cleared the wormhole, sir.”

  Peiun’s red eyes squinted as the light from the glowing yellow star that sat at the heart of the system, shined into his once-darkened bridge. The view screen dimmed seconds later to compensate.

  “Excellent,” Peiun said. “Set a course to Morutrin Prime.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Nadevina imputed the commands into her console.

  The Rezeki’s Rage’s presence vanished from the wormhole, taken away by its sub light speeds on a course to the most populated planet in the system. Long range scans in combination with Alesyna’s ESP appeared as tactical holograms over Peiun’s sights. There were human cargo ships, Radiance Union cruisers, UNE patrol ships, Imperial carriers, and hundreds of transports and smaller ships dotting the three-dimensional projection of the system.

  The galaxy had long given up the quest to claim to this system, and accepted the fact that it is, and always would be, a lawless frontier. The best the three nations could do was to send ships that could police the inner planets, and ensure that their interests in the system, and the region of space beyond, remained untouched.

  He blinked twice, forcing the tactical projection to vanish, and then ordered his HNI to reload the data the Qirak had sold him regarding the Fortune Runner. Technical specs showed the ship was too large for atmospheric travel and lacked engines powerful enough to make escape velocities, especially from a world like Morutrin Prime with a gravitational pull of one point two g. The crew of the Fortune Runner would have to use transports if they were to conduct business on the surface of the planet.

  But if that’s the case . . . “Alesyna,” Peiun said as he created a small projection of the Fortune Runner, pushing it to her. “Can you sense the presence of this ship in orbit?”

  The hologram of the Fortune Runner spun in circles in front of her, allowing her to get a better sense of its shape, color, unique features, and everything she would need to conduct a deep ESP scan for the ship. She entered her ESP trance, shutting her eyes, and powering the cybernetics built-in to her body and alluring meshed robe.

  “There’s a great many ships in orbit, but none of them fits this description,” Alesyna revealed after her trance ended.

  Peiun grimaced. “I didn’t think so.”

  Most mercenary ships typically operated from their bases, many of them located in the remote parts of the system. If they left those remote regions, it was because they had a job that required them to, or needed to gather supplies, or seek the service of prostitutes. A ship like Fortune Runner wouldn’t make its base on Morutrin Prime unless they could land the ship on its surface. The ship being registered to a port there was most likely a ruse to make it look legit and to send people like Peiun on a chase for something likely not going to be there.

  “Helm, cancel our course to Morutrin Prime,” Peiun said.

  “Understood, Captain.”

  “Take us to the asteroid belt.”

  Peiun noted at least five pairs of eyebrows rise from the crew.

  The gunner and tactical officer, Uemsu spoke up, ending the silence that entered the bridge. “Captain, might I remind you that there are numerous pirates in those areas.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Peiun said to him. “Nadevina, please take us to the belt.”

  Nadevina complied, taking the Rezeki’s Rage out of sub light, and repositioning it to enter a new course, the Morutrin system belt.

  “We are one ship,” Manzo, said from his communication station. “One-on-one, we can be victorious, not against an entire pirate battle group.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Peiun reaffirmed, having not forgotten about Manzo’s failed attempt to rid him as the captain. “Remain on course; keep shields at maximum power and ready weapons.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Uemsu said, and sifted through various holographic screens.

  Peiun faced his first officer and shipboard psionic. “Alesyna.”

  “I’m keeping my thoughts open for any vessels that take an interest in us,” Alesyna said. “Keep in mind the overshield will not be at full strength with the level of mental energy I’m putting into this. I’m not only scanning for the Fortune Runner, but also a mercenary base should it be docked within, plus deep scanning for pirates and other vermin in the belt.”

  Peiun knew it was a lot to ask of her and messaged the servants to honor any request she made even after this mission was over. Lucky, the ship wasn’t in combat, not yet at least. Should they come under attack, Alesyna’s ESP range would be reduced and limited to sensing dangers that were close to the ship, rather than further out in the system.

  It took half the day, but
the Rezeki’s Rage eventually entered the enormous asteroid belt of the system, which looked like a giant disc of dust, debris, and rocks, floating and encircling the system from the data outputting into his HNI.

  Nadevina plotted a course that sent Rezeki’s Rage through the densely packed field of spinning mountains and rocks. The Rezeki’s Rage’s appearance painted its hulking shadow over them. Derelict ships drifted aimlessly, many of them had no engines, or computers inside, the work of salvagers.

  An hour into their search a mangled Radiance battle cruiser appeared on the view screen with an asteroid lodged through it. Legend had it, an Imperial Archmage known as Noylarlie was responsible for it. Her psionic powers were unmatched during the Celestial Order wars, and stories told she achieved a level of sorcery no other psionic in the galaxy could do.

  Noylarlie was a myth to many, a story told to boost the morale of warriors and psionics. A book the empress wrote about aether space only continued to fuel the ideas that Noylarlie was a work of fiction, that and the fact nobody was able to locate such a powerful woman in the aftermath of the Celestial Order wars. Not even her alleged sister Phylarlie, an Imperial system lord.

  The Rezeki’s Rage ventured deeper into the belt, entering a place few people dared to travel to as it was heavily regulated by pirate groups. If they were going to find a mercenary base anywhere, it would be there. Alesyna’s HNI updated a projection on the bridge, displaying what her psionic mind could see with her ESP.

  It made Peiun fold his hands together and recline back on his chair.

  “Seems we are intimidating the pirates,” Alesyna said. “When we near, they flee.”

  “Except for these ones over here,” Peiun said, pointing at a number of red dots on the projection. “Two ships clustered together . . . unmoving from their spot.”

  “They are near an asteroid mining platform,” Alesyna said. “Perhaps they are raiding it?”

  “Two ships for a group of unarmed miners?”

  “Miners this far out, without protection?” Uemsu chimed in. “Who would take a contact like that?”

  Peiun eyed the projection closer. “You’re right,” he said. “They would either hire a mercenary group to protect them, or the corporation they worked for would have their own private ships to stand watch over them.”