The Lost Voyager: A Space Opera Novel (27 page)

“Carson, wait up,” Babcock said from behind as he shuffled around the corner and came up to Mach with a half-jog, struggling against the weight of his suit and old age. Mach sighed. It didn’t seem right to see him without a version of Squid dutifully following over his shoulder.
 

“Done anything interesting this morning?” Mach asked.
 

Babcock took a moment to catch his breath in the thin atmosphere. He dabbed a handkerchief across his brow. “The local remembrance park has agreed to our request. They’re digging two graves. We can go over whenever you’re ready.”

The tradition for freelancers dictated that anyone lost on a mission was given an empty coffin in a grave. A place of physical remembrance that could be visited by anyone wanting to pay their respects. Not all planets agreed with the practice, however, not always being friendly to freelancers and mercenaries.
 

Mach had tasked Babcock with the assignment to take his mind off things. The old scientist had been down since losing Squid Two and not having the equipment available to create a new version.
 

“Good news for a change. Morgan’s broadcasting to the Sphere in two minutes. I thought you might want to see it.”

“What nonsensical excuse will he use?” Babcock said.

“No idea, but I guarantee it won’t be the truth.”

Babcock cracked a smile. “The only way to know the truth is when the CWDF gives an official denial.”

Mach shook his head and laughed. “Is that you getting cynical in your old age?”

“The power of accurate observation is often called cynicism by those who don’t possess it.”

“Remind me to write that one down,” Mach said.

“It may also interest you to know that I’ve finished analyzing the phane data. They had maps of the western side of the Salus Sphere. Looks like we did everyone a bigger favor than any of us realized.”

“Nobody will ever see it like that, though, we’re just freelancer scum, after all. Come on, let’s see what the president has to say.”
 

They entered through the double glass swing doors of the mess. Bright white and light gray walls and floors created a clean, comfortable atmosphere that seemed at odds to the general grimy nature of the capital with all its shipyards and industry.

Mach scanned the forty circular tables in front of the serving area. A group of five fidians sat around one in light blue CWDF uniforms, no doubt checking on the progress of their destroyers. They shot glances over at two black-skinned vestans on the other side of the room. Both busily tapped away on holopads, ignoring the attention, in their usual way of indifference.
 

Lassea raised an arm from a table near the back of the room. Mach and Babcock snaked around the tables and took a seat. Adira pushed a mug of steaming vile coffee in front of the both of them.

“What did you want?” Adira asked. “Lass and I were nearly fully caffeinated.”

“Nice to see you too,” Mach said. He pointed up at the high-definition screen on the wall. “Morgan’s giving a statement.”

“This’ll be good,” Lassea said.
 

Adira rolled her eyes and finished the dregs in her metallic cup, sneering at the bitter aftertaste.
 

“The old duffer always was a good bullshitter,” Lassea added, bringing a coughing, spluttering laugh from Adira.
 

Mach couldn’t help but smile either, as Lassea’s increasingly rebellious streak continued to manifest. It didn’t take long for her to transform from a perfect, protocol-following, CWDF junior pilot to a true Machian freelancer of questionable motivations. Mach gave her a quick smile and turned round to face the screen.
 

The display showed an empty wooden lectern with the CDWF coat of arms—an outdated ship over the top of a planet, surrounded by a ring of eight stars—stamped on the front of it. The ticker below read:
Official statement regarding the Noven system incident.

Morgan appeared from the left, placed both hands on the lectern and stared into the camera. “Good evening, citizens. I’m talking to you this morning to provide an update on the anomaly outside our frontier.”

“Anomaly?” Adira snorted. “Sanchez died for that fucking weapon, and Morgan just refers to it as an ‘anomaly.’” She shook her head and turned away.
 

Mach knew Sanchez’s death cut everyone deep, but this was how things worked. The people at the coalface were never mentioned. It would probably compromise future missions anyway. Still, it didn’t dull the empty feeling in his guts left by Sanchez’s passing.
 

Morgan continued, “OreCorp made us aware of the instability of Noven Alpha’s core after suspending mining operations ten years ago. The CWDF has monitored the area ever since. We recently picked up powerful energy readings from the system. Five days ago, the planet’s instability caused a volatile core reaction, leading to the burst of trapped energies, breaking the planet apart. The debris field is currently showering Noven Beta. Luckily, no citizens have been reported in the area, and the Salus Sphere remains unaffected as our astrophysicists monitor the situation and the matter fallout. I’m happy to answer questions.”

A fidian, dressed in a lime trouser suit, stood up. “President, thank you for the update. Will the Noven system provide any future threat?”

“Gotta love those government plants,” Adira said. “I couldn’t think of a more shit-brained question.”

Morgan slowly nodded and referred to his clearly fake notes. “We’ll continue to assess the situation, but rest assured, any threat to the integrity of our borders will be dealt with.”

The planted press continued to ask carefully planned questions for a further ten minutes, allowing Morgan to absolve the CWDF and OreCorp of any responsibility or liability.
 

Finally the address came to an end. “Thank you for your time and I wish you all a good day or night, wherever you are in the Sphere.” Morgan shuffled his papers as the screen faded to black.

Mach leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head now that it was all officially over. The threat was dealt with, he’d been paid, and they came out of it mostly unscathed—except poor old Sanchez. He left a hole within Mach that was too big to fill with stims or alcohol, so he contented himself with the knowledge that Sanchez had chosen how to go, and went in the most honorable way possible. His sacrifice had ensured the survival of the
Intrepid
crew, and most likely every living being in the Sphere.
 

Adira turned and narrowed her eyes. “You seem content?”

“The price for suffering his waffle is that you’re off the hook—well, we all are. He’s cancelling your charges and all our associated fines.”

“Seriously?” Adira said. A smile stretched across her beautiful green-toned face. “So I can go about as I please?”

“Signed, sealed, and delivered,” Mach said. “You can run back to your lover now.”

Adira smirked as she stared into Mach’s eyes. “I never had a lover,” she said. “It kept you focused on the mission and away from me.”

All eyes around the table seemed to focus on Mach, apart from Lassea, who bowed her head. The revelation came as a nice surprise, but he didn’t want to show it. “Are you remaining part of the crew, then?” he said.
 

“I… don’t know yet. I need to think about things. I’ve not been free for… well, forever, it seems.”

Babcock cleared his throat. “I hesitate to cut into the banter, but we have two members of the crew to mourn. Would you all care to join me at the remembrance park?”

“You’re right, Babs,” Mach said. “The living owe it to those who died to maintain their memory and spirit.”

“I’ll message Tulula,” Lassea said. “She’ll want to be there.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Adira replied. “She’s been odd with us from the moment we got here.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Babcock said.

The group stood and headed for the exit.
 

***

Mach and the crew, minus Tulula, stood at the head of two freshly dug graves on the slopes of Livia Beta, overlooking the shipyards and choppy deep blue bay.
 

He looked around the stone monuments placed around the remembrance park. Elaborate statues of alien species long extinct, formal CWDF slabs, and simple granite crosses denoting the position of freelancers were spread around the yellow-grassed area surrounded by a smooth marble wall. Nobody knew why the freelancers still stuck with the conventions of Earth, but it had become a tradition throughout the Sphere.

Babcock knelt next to the meter-long grave on the right. He produced a white flag from his suit, decorated with binary code, and placed it over Squid Two’s coffin. He took a step back and bowed his head.
 

Lassea threw a bright yellow flower on the top of Sanchez’s coffin. Adira, following fidian custom, extended her arms down and looked toward the sky, praying to her gods for a safe passage into eternity.
 

Mach couldn’t help but look at the livian sitting in his brilliant white hover-digger, waiting to pile on the dirt the moment they left. To them this was just a business. He couldn’t blame them for it, but it took away the solemn nature of the proceedings.
 

A boom echoed in the sky. The group collectively looked up at the recognizable sound of a ship speeding through the atmosphere at a rapid descent. Two livian fighters had already scrambled and flanked either side of a tiny speck in the sky.

“What the hell is this?” Mach grumbled under his breath, pissed off at being interrupted during a moment of mourning for his friend.
 

The ship appeared to be on autopilot. It didn’t carry out any sweeps or tilts and smoothly descended toward the landing strip in front of the hangars.
 

Mach unslung his Stinger and looked through the sights for a better view. As the ship came closer, the shape became clear, but he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Who is it?” Lassea asked. “Lactern, horan?”

“Holy fuck… No, it’s none of them. I can’t believe it.” Mach’s jaw dropped at the sight.
 

“What is it, then?” Adira said.
 

“The
Intrepid
’s fighter drone!” Mach couldn’t believe his own words despite watching the craft slice through the atmosphere like a spirit.
 

“Our fighter drone?” Adira said. “You’re kidding, right?”

“If it L-jumped moments after us,” Babcock said, “the arrival matches with calculations based on its engines.”

Mach zoomed the sights and watched the drone gently land on the strip. He couldn’t see into the cockpit, but the identification marks on the side were enough.
 

“I don’t believe it,” Lassea said. “How’d it get back here? Some programming to follow the
Intrepid
perhaps?”

The fighter drone bumped down and came to a halt on the concrete. No landing crew approached. Mach couldn’t detect any signs of movement inside the cockpit.

“Let’s get down there,” Adira said and stepped forward. “Before any of the livians lay claim.”

Mach held his arm across her chest. “Wait a minute. The ship could be filled with phane eggs… or worse.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mach sprinted alongside Adira, heading through the gathering crowd on the shipyard’s dock area. The fighter drone still smoked and buzzed from the heat of re-entry. The back of it was charred almost completely black, obscuring its
Intrepid
markings.
 

Two livian dock guards approached the craft, their rifles trained on the cockpit. They spun round to face Mach and Adira as they approached. Mach had to resist the temptation to aim his Stinger in response, but they were only doing their job. He knew one of them, a human woman by the name of Celstra Stein, on account of her flirting with him the night before. She hadn’t taken kindly to his harsh brush-off at the time, but when they locked eyes, she lowered her rifle.
 

“Carson,” she said, “looks like this is one of yours.”
 

“Yeah, it’s one of the
Intrepid
’s drone fighters. You might need some backup.”

“What do you mean?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
 

Mach realized then that he and his crew, along with Morgan and the OreCorp hierarchy, were the only ones to know what truly happened. The phane threat wasn’t common knowledge, and Mach didn’t want to start the barrage of questions now by explaining.
 

“Just do it,” Mach said, pushing past her and stepping toward the drone’s cockpit. Although not strictly designed for piloting, it was designed to allow a human, vestan, or whatever to take control for navigational purposes only, mostly for when surveying planets with difficult terrain and weather.
 

Adira, Lassea and Babcock joined Mach around the cone of the fighter. Mach connected to its systems via his smart-screen. The internal systems were offline, meaning he couldn’t patch into the cameras or use the scanners. “I can’t detect anything inside,” Mach said.
 

Babcock tried from his smart-screen and got the same result.
 

While they discussed what to do, a squadron of twenty-five armed livian security forces dispersed the crowd and surrounded the fighter. Celstra Stein approached Mach from behind, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What now?” she asked.
 

“We’ll have to open the cockpit manually. I can’t say what might be inside, but all I will say is, shoot everything you’ve got at it on my say-so. Understood?”

“I got it,” the security officer said, relaying the orders to her squad.
 

Mach’s throat became dry as he stepped closer to the fighter. The manual-release lock was at head height. All he had to do was reach up, tap in the security code, and pull the lever…
 

He held his SamCore Stinger in his left hand and reached up with his right, punching in the five-digit code and activating the release. A hiss of pressurized air sounded. The dull gray metal canopy slid back into the craft’s hull. Mach stepped back on his haunches, bringing up his rifle. Adira had taken her pistol out of its holster and trained the weapon on the black space of the cockpit.