Gina reached the bottom of the ramp and she turned to glare at the admiral. Hoff smiled back. “What ya lookin’ at frek face? Think yer real frekkin’ special cause you’re an admiral? Well frek you! I’m gonna melt that smile off yer face with a plasma rifle—real slow and painful.”
Hoff blinked, taken aback by her vitriolic. He let out a short bark of laughter, and then one of the medics stepped forward with a syringe, and Gina tried to wriggle free of the straps tying her down to the gurney. “Hoi!” she said as the needle went in. She struggled more, muscles and tendons bulging with the effort to break her bonds. Unable to free herself, she settled for spitting at her attending medic instead. He flinched, but injected her anyway, and she abruptly relaxed against the gurney, her eyes rolling back in her head.
“As I was saying, try not to judge her yet, sir.”
Hoff smiled. “I’m not going to judge anyone, Captain. We’ve all done our share of wrong, and if we’re going to work together and rebuild—then all of us, including the Gors and Brondi’s men need to put the past behind us.”
“Including Brondi’s men, sir?” Caldin said, her eyes narrowing to slits.
Hoff nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about something,” she said suddenly.
“What is that, Captain?”
She shook her head. “I should ask you in private, sir. It’s about Captain Adram.”
“Ah, yes. Very well.”
Atton and the corpsman stood watching as the two of them walked away, out of earshot. Atton strained his ears to listen, but couldn’t hear what they were saying. They spoke for a long time, seconds dragging on into minutes, but at the end of that discussion, Hoff smiled, and Caldin gave a stiff salute. She returned to help take the last of the survivors to the med bay with the corpsman.
Hoff stepped up beside Atton and placed a hand on his shoulder. They watched as the injured officers and Gors were led away. “What was that about?” Atton asked.
“Ordinarily, I would say it’s classified, but you already know about some of it, and the rest is something we’re all going to have to know about soon.”
Atton listened as the admiral explained about the human traitor and Sythian agent, Captain Adram, about his attempt to organize a coup using log recordings of the destruction of Obsidian Station, and finally, about the unfortunate fate of everyone in the enclave, including Fortress Station and the remainder of Hoff’s own fifth fleet.
Atton frowned. “They might not all be dead. We have to send a mission out there to check. How many colonists and refugees were there?”
Hoff shook his head. “Over a hundred thousand, Atton.”
“Frek.”
“I suspect my fleet ran when they realized they were outnumbered, and Fortress Station might have arrived after the battle, so at the very least it may have survived. We’ll send out a search and rescue as soon as things are resolved here with the Gors and Brondi’s men.”
Atton nodded. “Good. You’re really planning to work with Brondi’s men?”
“We don’t have a choice. Half of Dark Space has a record, and we need the criminals as much as the honest citizens. We’re going to wipe the slates and see who reforms and who doesn’t. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Guess things look different when you’re one of the ones who frekked up,” Atton said.
“You’re going to have to watch how you speak to me, Commander, if you want to be a part of this fleet, but yes, things do look different when you’re on the other side of the bars. Come—by now Alara should be awake and I need to speak with your father.”
“About what?” Atton asked as they turned and strode for the exit.
“I’m going to offer him a commission, too.”
Atton smiled. “I don’t know if he wants to be one of your subordinates, Hoff.”
The admiral shrugged. “Perhaps, perhaps not, but I could use another capable pilot. Let’s see, shall we?”
* * *
One hour earlier . . .
Ethan walked into Alara’s room, leaving his family outside—his old family. Atton was grown, Destra had moved on with Hoff. Now it was his turn to move on.
“Ethan!” Alara said, her big, violet eyes finding him as he approached.
“Hoi, Kiddie,” he replied. He elbowed past her parents and leaned over the bed to kiss her on the cheek. “How are you doing, beautiful?”
He turned and found a nearby chair, Alara’s mother’s chair—but she nodded to him, indicating that he could take it. Kurlin glared, and Ethan smiled thinly back. They hadn’t put aside their differences, and they’d probably never be friends, but at least Darla liked him for her daughter. Ethan plopped the chair down next to the head of Alara’s bed and sat down so he could stare into her big violet eyes properly and drink her in. He wanted to make sure that his was the first face she saw when she woke up after the procedure. Removing her slave chip wasn’t particularly involved or dangerous—now that they had the deactivation code—but Ethan would wait by her bedside for however long it took for her to wake up. The medics couldn’t drag him out of here. He was determined to spend every moment with her that he could.
“I’m fine,” Alara said. “How are you?”
“The doc said I’m lucky none of the shrapnel made it to my heart, and apparently a few pieces just barely missed major arteries. The consensus is that I’m a very lucky skriff.”
Alara let out a long, slow breath. “We all are.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for coming back for me,” she said.
“I didn’t find you.”
“No, but you tried.”
Ethan sighed, and his hand found hers. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. “You would have done the same thing for me, Kiddie.”
“Maybe not, not while I thought I was Angel the playgirl, anyway.”
Ethan shook his head. “You’re not going to have to worry about that again.”
The attending medic walked up on the other side of Alara’s bed with a syringe and waited patiently for them to give him the go-ahead. Ethan looked up, and Alara turned to the medic with a hesitant look. “You’re sure there’s no risk?”
“None. You’ll fall asleep for a little while, and when you wake up, you’ll still remember everything, but you won’t have to worry about another crisis of identity, or false memories interfering with your real ones.”
Alara turned back to Ethan. “You’ll stay here until I wake up?”
He smiled. “I’m never going to leave you again, Kiddie. I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for. We have a life to get on with—together.”
Alara’s big eyes filled with a bright sheen of moisture. “Then I’m ready,” she said. “I think I’ve been ready for this my whole life.”
* * *
The medic leaned over to inject Alara with the syringe. Her eyelids grew heavy and slowly drifted shut. She imagined a small cabin in the woods on a world with clear blue skies and leafy green trees. The chimney of that cabin was alive with gray wisps of smoke, a crystal clear river flowed by in front, and two young children raced around the cabin, a boy and a girl, both of them squealing with delight as their father chased them. The children looked somehow familiar. When Alara caught a glimpse of the father’s face, she understood why, and she smiled. An hour later, when her eyes cracked open, that smile was still frozen on her lips and that scene still fresh in her mind.
“What are you smiling about?” Ethan asked, his eyes bright and green like the forest from her dream.
Her smile broadened and she gave a sleepy sigh, “You. You’re the father, Ethan. . . . we’re going to be so happy.”
Ethan grinned. He leaned over her bed and cupped her face in one big, callused hand. “I know,” he said, and with that, he leaned in the rest of the way and kissed her on the lips. Her lips moved softly against his, and they drank each other in, basking in the warm fragrance of each other’s breath.
Epilogue
One week late
r . . .
Ethan grinned, and his hand tightened on the flight stick as he flew out the Valiant’s main hangar bay in Brondi’s freshly-refitted corvette. The blue fuzz of the hangar’s shields faded, replaced with the familiar starry blackness of Dark Space.
The comms beeped with an incoming message and Ethan punched the button marked transmit/receive.
“Good luck, Ethan.” It was Hoff.
“You, too,” he replied. “Thanks again for the ship.”
“After leading us to Brondi and catching him before he escaped, it was the least I could do for you two. Besides, amnesty for everyone, remember? That includes ex-husbands of the woman I love.”
Ethan nodded. “Fair enough. Makes me feel bad now.”
“Bad?”
“Well, just don’t look inside any of your closets until the rictan pups have calmed down.”
“The what?”
“He’s joking,” Destra said.
Ethan smiled. No I’m not. He’d caught a sentinel with the pups last night. They’d been Brondi’s pets, and the sentinel was going to toss them out an airlock, but it had seemed cruel and unnecessary to do that. They were too young to be dangerous. Fleet regs said no animals on board—fleet regs be damned. Ethan took them from the sentinel, saying he’d adopt them. Instead, he’d smuggled them into Hoff’s closet last night at his and Alara’s farewell dinner.
The admiral had offered him a commission—wing commander—but Ethan had politely declined that offer. After pretending to be an officer, and then the overlord, he’d realized military life wasn’t for him. Besides that, he didn’t want to spend any more time around Hoff than he absolutely had to. The fleet would get along just fine without him.
“Hoi, don’t forget to visit sometimes,” Atton added in the background. “It’s not like we’re in another sector or something.”
“I want to talk, too!” Atta said, shouting to be heard.
Muffled laughter bubbled from the comm speakers and Ethan smiled. “I won’t forget.”
“Goodbye, Ethan,” Destra said.
“Goodbye,” he replied, but the note of finality in his voice was not unkind. Alara cut the comm channel and Ethan set a course which would take them deeper into Dark Space.
He and Destra had agreed to part as friends. Ethan suspected that they always would be at least that much to each other, but never anything more. Now they both had someone else; they both had a fresh start—and so did humanity.
Dark Space was safe for the time being, thanks to the Gors’ support. They had agreed to stay and help guard the sector in exchange for sanctuary. Dark, icy worlds like Firea which humans couldn’t easily use were a virtual paradise for them. Moreover, Hoff had agreed to help the rest of them escape slavery and bring them to Dark Space as refugees. With that, and the surprising revelation that the bridge crew of the Tauron had used their final moments to save two Gors—the alien warriors had agreed to forget about Ritan, and a new alliance had been formed.
The Tauron was being salvaged; Brondi’s forces had been offered a regular fleet salary and commission as part of Hoff’s amnesty program, and most of them had accepted. In Dark Space, criminals were usually criminals because they didn’t have a choice—something Ethan could relate to very well. With that understanding, Hoff had offered everyone in Dark Space a chance to join the amnesty program, to have their records swiped clean and start over with legitimate work—everyone except for Brondi. He was back on Etaris with the worst of Dark Space’s criminal population, serving a sentence of 400 consecutive years hard labor, and undergoing therapy sessions in which he was forced to come to terms with his abusive father and his impoverished childhood. That was punishment enough all by itself.
So far, everyone had managed to put aside their differences in the interests of going forward and rebuilding from a position of strength. Not everyone liked the idea of redeeming criminals by making them the new guardians of the sector, but nevertheless, Hoff’s new motto that, “we’re all the same, no one better, no one worse,” went over well with everyone.
The overtures of peace and forgiveness had, however, stopped with the humans in Dark Space and the Gors. Sythians were still enemy number one, and as for the immortal humans hiding out in Avilon . . . they were still a well-kept secret. The admiral hadn’t decided what to do about them yet, but Ethan hoped the Sythians managed to find them and that they would wipe one another out.
As for Ethan and Alara, they’d go back to doing what they were best at, and this time, they didn’t owe any debts on their ship. Hoff had given them Brondi’s old corvette, and Deck Commander Cobrale Delayn had overseen the modifications himself. The seraphim-class corvette had been turned into the perfect trade ship, and it was ten times the vessel that the Atton had been. Bridge control stations had been consolidated down to just two—one for the pilot, and one for the copilot. The ship’s long-range capabilities had been kept as an option if Ethan wanted to fill the cargo hold with fuel, while the gun turrets and military-grade shields had been restored. The drive system had been rebuilt with a new top acceleration of 125 KAPS, making the ship almost as fast as a nova fighter. It would be the perfect ship with which to flit around Dark Space as a freelancer—as freelancers, Ethan corrected, turning to admire his beautiful copilot.
Alara caught him staring at her and she turned to him with her big violet eyes. She smiled demurely at him. “What?”
Ethan shook his head. “I just can’t believe that you chose me. I can’t believe that you’re mine.”
She held his gaze with a small smile until he looked away, and then she shook her head. “I’m not yours yet . . .”
Ethan turned back to her with a sly look. He’d been waiting for the right moment. Now, he judged that this was it. “Close your eyes,” he said.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Okay . . .”
Ethan’s smile grew. A few days ago, Destra had taken him aside and given him something—a pair of rings.
“These belong to you,” she’d said, placing them in his hand. “I’m sorry it couldn’t be forever.”
He’d stared at the pair of rings in his hand, scuffed and beaten silver, dark with age. The artificial diamond was missing from the engagement ring, and the prongs of the mounting were bent.
“I’m sorry they aren’t in better condition,” she’d said. “I wore them on Ritan, so . . .”
“It’s okay. I’m surprised you kept them this long.”
“I haven’t worn them since I married Hoff, but it seemed wrong, somehow, to throw them away.”
Ethan had thanked her and slipped the rings into the breast pocket of his flight jacket. Now he unbuttoned that pocket and withdrew the smaller and thinner of the two rings. He took Alara’s hand in his and slipped the ring on her finger. Her eyes flew open, and she gaped at the diamond staring back at her. The new diamond, a real diamond this time, was Hoff’s contribution—as was the shiny platinum finish.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Ethan said.
Alara unbuckled her seat restraints and flew across the short aisle between them. She landed in his lap and showered him with kisses. Eventually Ethan managed to calm her enough to give her a real kiss, and they lost themselves in the moment as time seemed to slow and stretch out toward infinity. Ethan inhaled deeply, allowing the fragrance of her breath, skin, and hair to intoxicate him fully.
“Thank you, Ethan!” she said, finally coming up for air.
Ethan smiled as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “For what?”
“For making me the happiest woman in the galaxy.”
“I could say the same, but I’d have to add an extra thank you for waiting so long for me,” he said.
She grinned happily. “You were worth the wait.”
Later, as they travelled through the streaking brightness of superluminal space, Alara and Ethan lay side by side in their quarters, naked, their arms and legs wrapped tightly around each other as they gazed into one another
’s eyes. They spoke excitedly about their future, about where they would go and what they would do.
Barely half an hour later, they’d consummated that future for the second time, and the long hours of the night floated by in a dreamy haze with more of the same. As Ethan finally drifted off to sleep, Alara told him in a hushed voice about a dream she’d had, about two little children and a cabin by a lake. He smiled, imagining everything clearly in his mind’s eye. With that, Ethan decided that maybe Dark Space wasn’t so dark, after all—at least not for him, and not anymore. You can’t see darkness because it isn’t really there—
It’s just an absence, waiting for the light.
DARK SPACE IV: Revenge
(5th Edition)
by Jasper T. Scott
http://www.JasperTscott.com
@JasperTscott
Copyright © 2014 by Jasper T. Scott
THE AUTHOR RETAINS ALL RIGHTS
FOR THIS BOOK
Reproduction or transmission of this book, in whole or in part, by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any other means is strictly prohibited, except with prior written permission from the author. You may direct your inquiries to [email protected]
Cover design by Thien A.K.A "ShooKooBoo"
This book is a work of fiction. All names, places, and incidents described are products of the writer’s imagination and any resemblance to real people or life events is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
This book comes to you thanks in large part to my wonderful wife, who endured many a lonely night and weekend to help me finish on time. The quality of the story is thanks in large part to my editor, Aaron Sikes, whose remarkable feedback helped me to see the big picture through all the little details. Thank you, Aaron for helping me make this story shine. Also, a big thanks to my very talented cover artist, Thien "Shookooboo," for artwork that far surpassed my expectations.
Finally, I have to say an extra special thanks to all my beta readers, without whose feedback this book would be far less polished than it is. Many thanks go to Andrew de Mora, Andrew Goodwin, Bill Gallacher, Carmen Romano, Daniel Eloff, Damon Trent, Dave Cantrell, David Brotchie, Davis Shellabarger, Gary Watts, Ian Jedlica, Ian Seccombe, Jay Gehringer, Jeph Yang, Jim, John H. Kuhl, John K. Nash, John Parker, John Rowles, Julie Kuhn, Kedd Burmeister, Mark Tindall, Marten Ekema, Maurizio Cattaneo, Patrick Blenkinsop, Randy Mills, Raymond Myers, Sandra Roan, Steven Shapse, Wade Whitaker, and Peter Rockas.
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