Remember the Starfighter (7 page)

Julian sat on the ground, huddled against a wall. He had just woken up, another blood-stained nightmare, another piece of his broken past, disturbing his sleep. He felt the side of his head, only to relinquish his hold, and notice the bleeding was gone.

Just the same memory, he thought. Pulling the blanket away, he looked around and found that nothing had changed. He was still here, inside this cold and dim storage space — his new, albeit temporary home.

The auditorium-like room had been taken over two days ago, the smell of metal freight lingering in the air. Now, more than a hundred refugees laid across it, stripped of all the daily comforts they once had and instead given a hard floor to sleep on. He felt alone in that first week on the base, just another vague figure in a mass of lost people.

The authorities in the form of flustered officers had simply directed him to where the civilian populace of Haven had been told to stay. Display screens across the base broadcasted a repeating list of where to go for certain services, such as for food or clothing. But most of the facility was still off-limits, including the medical wings, where Nalia was likely to be. He had heard nothing about what happened to her, and could only assume that she was being cared for.

Official information had been made short and concise: Haven had been invaded, but contingency plans were in place. What that entailed was left up to speculation. For now, all Haven citizens across the sector had been ordered to retreat to Bydandia, a star system the government had colonized decades ago.

Julian had found himself in a military facility located on this little moon. He did not know how many, but he saw hundreds maybe thousands of civilians crowded throughout the base’s confines. Many of the refugees had come from other star systems that had neighbored Haven and had been forced to evacuate. Now each day, more refugees came pouring in, taking up every available space the authorities could find for them.

Julian looked through the crowds and checked the public databases to see if anyone he had known from Haven had made it out alive. So far, however, there was no one. He sat in the storage room, feeling the gloom in the air.

Across from him was a large window, the sunset of the star bleeding through. The crimson sun fell back behind the rising gas giant, the white fog of its surface tinted red as the glare declined into total darkness. He sat there staring, wondering where he was going.

Next to him, empty expressions weighed on people’s faces. Parents held their children, hugging them in their arms. Then came the murmurs of doom.

Julian could hear the sudden shuffling of footsteps. Rows of people were moving toward a pair of large display screens installed across a wall in the room. He could see and listen to them whisper; some were voicing disbelief, others venting curses. Julian moved in behind them to watch what was happening.

The display screen showed footage of Haven, taken from probes left in the system. He expected to see the same view he had days ago, one of a blue world spiraling in the darkness.

It was not there. In its place was the remnants of a habitable planet, but this time surrounded by a structure stretching across its periphery. To Julian, it was like an alien skin had grown over the blue skies of Haven. Eventually, the shell would cover the entire planet as it had so many others.

“The Endervar shield,” Julian said to himself. “They’ve started building it.”

The shield: it was the greatest technology the enemy possessed, and the core reason the threat could never be vanquished. No one understood what it was made of, or how such a thing could be constructed so quickly. But once completed, the barrier was invincible, immune to even the most powerful weapons ever devised. An entire world would be lost, the fate of its inhabitants a mystery. Soon Haven and whatever people that remained on it would be barred from salvation. The enemy would claim them for all eternity.

The holographic screens splayed across the steel table at the center of the room, cluttering its surface in layers of light. Sitting behind them was a man who had resorted to taking stimulant packs in the last week to stay awake. He looked at Julian with blood-shot eyes.

“You’re the best thing to come to me this whole damn week,” he said, in a low grumble.

His name was Balans Righton, a SpaceCore colonel, who had been charged with managing fleet staff. He had taken off the white uniform and sat behind his desk with the sleeves of his gray undershirt pulled back at the elbow. A stubble of silver and black flecks grew in patches along his cheeks and chin, adding extra age on to his 58 years. He seemed grim, except for the smile now hanging on his dry lips. Julian sat across from him, wanting to explain his case. 

“I was hoping I could see you,” Julian said. “I want to rejoin the Core.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. According to the database, we already drafted you. Looks here, you’re still at the ripe age of 30 years. It’s always good to hear enthusiasm.”

The colonel pulled up Julian’s record, the beams of yellow light forming above the desk into a holographic image. It projected a long list, displaying Julian’s background and his service in the military.

“You have a pretty strong record,” the colonel said. “After the academy, you were with the Core for over 7 years. A lot of hit-and-run raids or patrol duties. But you were there at Orion and at the end with Second Gaia. That’s very impressive. You do recall that, correct?”

“I remember enough.”

The commander grabbed his chin, not entirely convinced. The pilot sitting before him was a trained veteran, and certainly skillful. But he was also one who had barely survived his first stint with the Core.

“The profile says you suffered severe head trauma. A shot to the head. About four years ago,” the colonel said, more delicate in his tone. “We had you in rejuvenation for a while. Damage to about 40 percent of the brain. How do you feel now?”

Julian was brief.

“I’m fine,” he replied, stone-faced.

“Were there any after-effects? Anything that might have changed anything?”

Julian lied. “None,” he said.

“Those cybernetic implants not acting up?”

“You should have my medical eval from two months ago. It says I’m fine.”

“So you have your shit together then?”

Julian’s gaze hardened. “Yes.” 

Somewhat satisfied, the commander began stroking the side of his facial hair. He could tell Julian was a quiet man, not wanting to delve into details. Righton could guess why, noting the previous dereliction of duty in the profile. That didn’t matter. The colonel needed pilots. 

“I know things with the Core didn’t end well. Your psych and medical evaluation from three years ago said you were pretty traumatized. Shit. I bet we had you all prepared to be a commander eventually.”

“Yeah. Well, after the surgery, the doctors said I couldn’t cut it.”

“But now your back,” the commander said, reclining in his chair. “And your quite eager about it seems.”

Julian nodded, determined to return to the fight.

“Send me to Haven. The Core has got to be planning some sort of counterattack. I want to be there on the front lines. Just give me a ship.”

The colonel raised his eyebrows.

“I see. You’re very eager it seems,” the man said. “Even though you wouldn’t get far.”

The colonel took both his hands and began massaging his face. Julian could see the exhaustion, the man’s skin sunken into his face. The colonel closed his eyes, taking a long pause to form his response. “Damn,” he finally said.

“I’m sure you heard the news about the Endervar shield.” The colonel said. “I wish we were planning an operation like that. But we aren’t.”

“What do you mean?” Julian asked. “Once the shield fully goes up, there’s no way to break it.”

“We all know that,” the colonel barked. “My goddamn wife and kids are there. I bet your family is there too.”

The colonel struck the table with his hand, shutting down the holographic image of Julian’s service record. He shook his head, mumbling curses through his teeth.

“Nverson, our man power is at an all-time low. We lost over 70 percent of our fleet in the attack on Haven. There’s no way we can stage a counterattack or even hope to win it. Shit. The enemy really fucked us this time. Even if we were at full strength, we’d still be no match for the Endervars.”

Julian expected as much. The once mighty SpaceCore had been turned into a shell of its former self.

“I know the protocol, but isn’t there something we can do?”

The colonel’s gaze fell down at the mess of data chips and reports sprawled over the table, seeing only uncontrollable turmoil.

“Nverson, the SpaceCore has to deal with sending what we project to be 10 to 12 million survivors to somewhere safe. We are not abandoning anyone. We are just saving what we can, and making sure we don’t lose any more people.”

Julian wanted to say more, but the colonel would not have it.

“Listen. I got my orders. And now you will have yours. End of discussion,” the colonel demanded. Julian bit his lip, trying to calm himself down.

“Because of the Endervar invasion, we lost many of our best pilots. I’ve been scrounging around, trying to find people with the skills to help us do some flying. So I’m happy as hell you came in today,” the colonel said.

“Anyways, I’m promoting you to starfighter captain immediately,” he added.

“What?” Julian said, nearly getting up from his seat. “That’s fast.”

“Hey we need you. We need you now.”

“But when I was with the Core, the highest I got up to was squadron leader. And you know how that turned out.”

“Yeah I do know. But that shit happens. More importantly, it’s in the past. Your most recent psych report says you are ready for duty again.”

Julian protested, but the commander would still not have it.

“You are Captain Nverson now. It doesn’t mean I’m going to have you out there commanding a whole damn fleet. But I need experienced hands to get some of this tough shit done. Alright?”

“Listen,” the colonel continued. “I’m sorry we didn’t draft you weeks earlier. Then you would have been there at Haven. But that was a goddamn massacre. I want to take the fight to those fuckers. But that’s not the reality we are in. We lost. Now I need you to help us salvage what is left. If you don’t, then you’ve just abandon the people who need you.”

“But the Alliance,” Julian shot back. “Can’t they do something? Our window to take back Haven, it’s not going to last. The Endervar shield—”

“I know dammit. But we can’t do anything about Haven. The goddamn Alliance is sitting on their hands. We’re lucky they didn’t just obliterate the place to prevent the Endervar spread. If I hear something different I will let you know. But for now, you are a captain. We’ll get your duties ready tomorrow. I’m not sure what we got. We need escorts, scouts and even people to fly ships to Isen to get these civilians out of here.”

“We need you,” the colonel added. “What’s left of Haven needs you. We have to do whatever we can to survive.”

Julian meekly nodded. The colonel then handed him a data chip.

“You are to report at Ops tomorrow. Hopefully, your orders will be ready. For now report to FR to get your uniform, and associated security creds,” the colonel said.

Julian then did something he hadn’t done in years. “Yes sir,” he said, standing at attention and giving the man a firm salute. The colonel gave a half-nod, looking more amused than pleased.

“It’s funny. Months ago, command was considering phasing out some of the human pilots. Wanted to replace the lot of you with more and more sentry drones, and A.I. Maybe even eventually start creating our own machine fleets.”

“But it looks like you’re relevant again,” the colonel said, with a grin. “Congratulations on the promotion. Sorry it couldn’t be more festive.”

He held the insignia in the palm of his hand. It was a piece of silver metal shaped in the form of a bird’s feathered wing. The symbol designated him as a captain, a rank he never thought he’d achieve.

Julian stood next to a row of lockers as he tried on his new officer’s uniform for the first time. He didn’t bother to see how it looked on him; he was just another body in a gray suit. Sitting down on the steel bench beside him, he placed his head into his two hands.

Am I really ready for this? Am I still whole?

The questions would have been silly to ask years ago. Before the accident. Before the so-called “injury,” when his head hadn’t suddenly exploded. That was when he was still a full-fledged starfighter. He had been trained for war since a teenager, battle ready to fight and follow orders to the end. But since then, he had changed. Though Julian would not admit it, the doubt had grown-like an infection, his memory shattered into pieces. He could always pretend and feign his way to act like a seasoned pilot. Yet it couldn’t help but feel like varnish, masking the wounds riddling his mind. 

Everything was out of his control, as it always had been. He tried to calm himself, and hold in his anguish. But he struggled to simply breathe.

Julian could only massage his face. He wanted to claw away at the frustration.

“Not having a good day are we?”

He heard the voice, noting the almost mocking tone. Then came the woman’s mild chuckle.

“Nalia,” he said, turning his gaze to her.

She was standing behind him, a grin glazed over her lips. She had dressed herself in a blue officer’s uniform, looking more formal than ever. No ruffled clothes or hair, simply a clean look free of any calamity. Casually, she held her stance, giving Julian a wink. So different when he had seen her before, her body without life, her face scarred by the burns. Now he could only see unblemished skin, the danger they had faced replaced by a smile of sass.

She came up to hold him, putting her arms around his back in a hug. “I finally found you,” she said, whispering the words into his ear.

Julian stared at her closely, noticing that, indeed, she had come away fully healed. “Here, feel it,” she said, grabbing his hand to touch against her cheek.             

“The doctors fixed up my wounds pretty thoroughly, even added an implant to my right eye,” Nalia said. “When I woke up I didn’t even notice I had been hurt, just a numbness in the cheek and some discoloration in the skin.”

Julian smiled, all too glad that she hadn’t seen what the damage had done to her.

“I’ve been searching for you these past three days. But S-COM is a mess and orders have been piling up ever since I started. Been working non-stop,” she explained.

“Don’t worry about it,” Julian said. “I was trying to find you too, but I didn’t have access. I’m just happy to know that you’re okay.”

She sat down on the bench. “I can’t believe we made it out of there. I thought we were both dead. I really did,” she said as she stared at the wall of lockers in front of her. “I looked over the report. Says a New Terran saved us. Thank God for them.”

Nalia kept touching her cheek, trying to feel where the scars would have been. She then folded her arms as she spoke in a cold tone.

“I just remember seeing the view screen on board the Crusader. Our shields were down. Then I remember being hit in the face. A sharp and awful pain. That was it. The report says you carried me to the escape pod, got us out of there.”

Nalia wiped her eyes.

“Hey,” Julian said. “It’s okay. We made it.”             

“Thanks to you Julian,” she replied. “I… well, you saved my ass.”

“Hey, you saved my ass first. So we’re even.”

Nalia laughed. She unfolded her arms, and put them squarely on the bench.

“Well, I’m glad we were both there for each other. Actually, I probably should call you Captain Nverson now, shouldn’t I?”

“You know already?”

“I was the one who recommended your promotion. It was on the fly. But we’ve been desperately searching for able pilots. You were actually the first order I made. ”

“So you’re the one I should be cursing then,” he quipped.

“Listen, I’ve seen your record Julian,” she said in a solemn tone. “I know it must be tough. But it’ll be okay. I promise.”

“No, no. I’m just kidding. I want to serve.”

“You’re a good pilot. You got us out of there,” she said. “I’ll be one of your liaisons. All right?”

She then put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He could hear the kindness in her voice. Julian could tell she had wanted to save him from the worry. They had only just met, but she didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. In fact, Julian couldn’t remember being this close to anyone, not in years.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be fine with the Core. It’s just… I wish I could go back to Haven.”

Julian placed his hands on his legs, squeezing the cloth at his kneecaps.

“I want to save them. But I know the military protocol,” he lamented. “I know it too damn well. I feel stupid to even think otherwise.”

His voice trailed off. Julian realized it was pointless, just leftover emotions, looking for purpose.

“No, no,” Nalia replied. “I completely understand. I feel the same way. It just doesn’t feel right to abandon them.”

“It’s surreal,” she added. “But then you think about it. You can never go back. I’m not going to lie…”

She put her face in her hands as her body clenched. The charm in Nalia seemed to disappear. 

“It’s the end of the world,” she said, each word as hopeless as the next.  “Everything is gone. I don’t know if I’ll be alive tomorrow, or another week, or a month. We may all be dead by then.”

“I’m a veteran,” she went on. “But when I think of it. Actually think about it…”

Nalia pressed the bottom of her eyes, holding back the tears.

“Fuck,” she said. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter. Haven is gone. The enemy is still out there.”

Seeing her anguish, Julian put his arm around her and brought her in close. He could feel her shake, her posture wavering back and forth.

“It will be okay,” he said. 

Nalia couldn’t look at him.

“Don’t give me that. I’m no rookie,” she complained. “We lost. We lost bad. Friends and family, I’ll never see them again.”

Nalia was right. They were gone. To comfort her, felt like a lie.

“But you’re not alone,” Julian replied, taking her other hand in his palm. “You’re not.”

Nalia listened, and laid her head against his shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said, trying to reach for something. “But we didn’t lose everything.”

Julian felt the words come from nothing, and wondered if it was another lie. For a moment, even he struggled to believe it.

He simply squeezed her hand, wanting to make it true. In return, Nalia squeezed back. 

“You’re right,” she said.

He was about to say more, but he could feel Nalia’s emotions ease. She let go of the anguish, and almost every other thought in her mind.

“Thanks to each other, we’re alive,” Nalia said.

She wanted to vent, and so was happy to find someone to talk to. But Nalia wasn’t done. Taking one of Julian’s arms, she pulled back the sleeve, revealing his skin. With her two hands, Nalia began stroking the surface. She caressed his arm, massaging it and keeping it warm. He didn’t know what she was doing, only that it was an affection he had long been away from.

Nalia tilted her head up and looked into Julian. In her eyes, showed the gratitude, along with something else.

“Time is short. So let’s live,” she said.

Grabbing his collar, she then put her other hand on his cheek and kissed him on the lips. It lasted only for a moment.

Leaving his lips, she pulled back away from him, feeling not in the least awkward. Nalia then laughed. 

Forgive me, she expressed in a glance.

“One last kiss,” she said, ready to return to duty. “Now it’s time we serve.”