Chapter 16

MARK

Ending off the first week of their trip, it was the day they would exit hyperspace. He noticed how slow time passed for him now as opposed to before any of the chaos. A week on the outskirts of Tiir went by like a breeze. With all that’s been flashing through his mind now, he hardly ever had a moment to relax and enjoy what he could out of his time. Isabella provided some much needed temporary relief, but he knew she was mostly engaging in a perhaps not-so-healthy distraction. It wasn’t serious.

Often he thought back to Valerie but doing so was usually followed by an eruption into sobbing and tears and an afternoon locked away in his room answering to no one. He had Isabella teach one of the lessons for him on such a day. He could still imagine her voice, he could still picture her face. Her soft brown hair, her hazel irises rimmed with green. Nothing could bring her back, he knew this. He felt guilty of being unfaithful, but the girl he loved was no longer alive. He tried hard not to think of things that have passed but grief was a natural response to loss, and hard to control. His father must have known this feeling for a long time. He began to understand him more now than ever.

He wanted him around. If he’d joined the fighter testing with him like he was asked, he would be among the survivors. It was not good to think in what-ifs, he knew that. He felt unworthy to take on this role he’d begun filling, having been given Squad Leader status before the others only because he was unfortunate enough to be outside the ship when the Raiders ambushed. He’d learned much from his father, but still felt as though his father could do better. He wanted him here, to talk to, to ask how to proceed, seek advice, have a drink with, the reasons he missed Markus the Great went on. Being honest with himself, he wanted his father back. He wanted his father’s support and his love. Therefore, thinking of him proved useless as well thus continuing the cycle.

He took a shower to clear his mind and focus. There were more pressing matters. The pilots he’d been training, for instance. A few picked up quick, others not so much. He wanted to see what Eric could do, having no official ranking position. They took the fighter over to the Capital bay and turned on the lights. There was room enough for a fighter to maneuver around. He did well, scoring higher in some areas than rank fives and some sixes, but still ranking lower in others like pitch control. His aim was adequate, and his reflexes were sharp. The group of his new friends set up a paintball gun to show how well he dodged and only a few hit. At the end of two days, he signed him on as his second wingman. Isabella gave him an over the top annoying hug to congratulate him, as is her usual style.

Today was the day they would prove themselves, should anything go wrong. With this mission’s track record, he was sure something would. Anything could happen now.

***

 Leonard Naabal was going to give them a speech. All combat ready pilots gathered in an auditorium just before Mothership was to exit hyperspace within the hour. They were already in their flight suits. Mark looked around at the other squad leaders: Jeroll Sjet of Green Squad, Reina Manaan of Blue Squad, and Kyle LiirHra of Orange Squad. Their uniforms were only slightly different from one another. All three of them had more combat experience and were older than himself, however, none questioned when he was offered the role of Red Leader; he proved himself against the invaders. According to rumour, there was a ranking up awaiting him once the chaos died down. Too little time for formalities that first week.

“You twenty pilots are our front line of defence. This role is a great honour in my opinion. Supporting you are five Hammers and four Mercy docks,” he began. They all knew the codenames for unit classes at this point, a Hammer was a heavy corvette like the ones that came to his aid in the previous battle and a Mercy was a repair corvette—a small support craft designed to dock one fighter at a time and repair larger craft with a front-mounted repair beam. “Three enemy ships have been captured from the Cryo Tray assault and have been put back in service with a new paint job. The nerds say we can build our own frigate-class vessels now, so some will be joining you out there to lend a hand if need be. This ship,” he said activating a holo for us to see, “is a support frigate. We call her the Matriarch-class. Docks ten at a time, crew compliment is about three-dozen. These ships are your best friends. Stay within range of one and you’ll live to fight another day.”

He marvelled at the design. Five dock pads on each side along the main body and corvette dock arms on the bottom, a shielding hull extension over topside, a single gun under the bow’s nose, and had an improved repair beam several times better than a Mercy. The bridge was aft-ward on top of the main body, and the engine was a single vertical row of fusion torches. He had to admit, the Naabali knew what they were doing when designing it.

“We’re not expecting to run into any trouble with this resourcing stop, but we really don’t have a clue what to expect. Be on guard out there, and good luck.” This concluded the meeting. 

Mark looked back to his squad members who were getting out of their seats and it finally sunk in. He was in command of these four, he would likely lead them into danger and they would follow. He would be responsible for anything that happens to them, and it was frightening to consider. Isabella and Carol were laughing over something between them, Eric sat scribbling into a notepad and Henry was staring in wonder at the holo of the Matriarch still present above them. These people depended on him outside in the vacuum of interstellar space, and he hoped not to fail them.

“Hey, what’s up with that stare?” Jeroll asked tapping his shoulder.

“Lost in thought is all,” he said. “Never been in command of anyone.”

“Don’t sweat it. They already respect you, so the hard part’s over with. Trust me, I’ve seen how your makeshift training lessons went. The younger one in particular seems to admire you. She’s a little on the crazy side, but effective. I’ve seen her against the Raiders and was impressed to find out it was the first time she’d been in combat. What of the other one there,” he said pointing to Eric. “Awful quiet, any particular reason you chose him?”

“Gut feeling. He’s not been officially trained as a pilot but he’s been in combat, and he knows the inside of a strike fighter better than I do, probably.” He would keep Eric’s heritage secret for now, it was the courteous thing to do. Many would find it suspicious for a Gaalsi to be onboard. Despite the conflict with the defunct Northern Coalition long over with, many kiith still harbour ill sentiment towards his people, almost as much so as the treacherous Siidim.

Both were barred from having members selected for colonization heightening tensions with the Siidim towards the end of the construction process. Siidim-sa had to be removed from the Daiamid meeting upon hearing the decision, outraged and yelling slurs to the other Sas  present, calling them all gritiidim. It had only been twenty years since their exile had been deemed over and right back to their callous ways they went. Whenever Eric decided to reveal his kiith affiliation with others was up to him alone.

The Mothership dropped out of hyperspace.

Jeroll joined the rest of Green Squad and left for the hangar. Isabella was waiting on him now, and he joined her and the others as they too headed to the hangar. This time, the hangar was in full production mode, meaning the fighters were up in their storage racks and the artificial gravity was at a minimum. They magnetized their boots upon stepping out onto the floor.

All walls of the hangar had a gravitational attraction to facilitate operations inside. All his time so far had been spent in the supply bay which only has an attraction on the base, mimicking a floor. Now, in the open bay expanding for over half a kilometre towards the bottom-end, all walls were also floors. Fighters were stored in their racks along the top of the hangar while corvettes were stored along the aft wall. Or floor. It confused him to think about. And lastly, all the way towards the bottom wall of the hangar was fabrication. He saw the outline of a frigate already under construction.

He climbed into his ship, the same fighter he used before, and turned on the engine. When the light turned green, it was his turn to launch. He throttled up and sailed down the blue-lit bay, pulling up and out the hangar door into the black void. He moved his ship over to the line of other interceptors assuming parade formation. His HUD had already been calibrated for the other ships, displaying their squad colour and number in it, leaders having a star. He performed system checks out of habit while waiting for the hangar to empty out.

“It’s so dark,” Isabella said over the comm.

“Closest star is half a light-years away, so yeah, it would be,” Henry said.

“Then what’s the story behind this asteroid cluster?” Carol said.

“I looked it up earlier,” he replied. “Some ejected debris from a planet forming system nearby. There’s likely to be more, that’s why the Sjet are searching in case we need to stop somewhere again.”

“Interesting,” Eric said.

He noticed ahead of them the resource collectors already heading off to do their work escorted by two light corvettes each. Cavaliers were considered useless for actual combat scenarios. They have one gun turret, don’t have the armour of other corvettes, and are much slower than fighters despite being barely larger than one. Instead they’ve been delegated to escort duty for resource operations.

A larger ship finished exiting the capital bay and was now following the collectors. The HUD revealed it to be the resource controller, a mobile refinery. Mostly crewed by Somtaaw. It had six fighter docking pads and two corvette arms to help support its escorts. He knew very little about the Somtaaw, but knew that they were in control of resourcing operations and processing as well as being the most independent of any clan in the fleet.

Not much time passed before the alert light flashed on his dash. “Long range sensors indicate a mothership-class mass signature. It’s closing in fast,” said Leonard. The words took time to register in his mind, then he felt what he’d describe as a combination of anticipation and concern rush through him.

“Stay calm,” he said over Red Squad’s private channel.

A yellow doorway cut through the fabric of space ahead. He’d expected possibly the Taiidan fleet, or even the pirates from the outer Kharak system. It was neither. A large vessel tan in colour exit through the doorway. The design looked like none they’d encountered before. It turned to face the Mothership, revealing it to be a U shape with a bright city of yellow lights covering its interior curvature. He was in awe by the sight, and assumed the others were as well by the silence over the radio bands. Were they friend or foe? How did they find them? They were not attacking, therefore no attack order was given by Command.

“Full combat alert, standby for contact.” The squads broke into their separate delta formations but remained passive. A standard procedure, one of the few he had covered in his brief training sessions.

He looked back to the hangar and saw the ambassador craft launch. It was a modified unarmed heavy corvette.

“Ambassador away,” Karan’s voice echoed over the speakers. Her voice had a calming charm to it, unlike Leonard’s.

“Trajectory locked in, hailing signal open on all channels.” The ambassador moved closer to the odd alien ship keeping a safe speed and breaking occasionally to ensure the other ship that it would not collide. “Entering magnetic field now. Almost there…” It was now within the narrow trench lit up by the city lights. “Fleet, we’ve lost guidance and are being drawn in. There’s a lot of lights… uh… there seems to be some kind of activity inside, I can see—” his signal cut out. He and the rest of the fleet waited patiently, unknowing, unsure.

A short moment later a signal was received from the alien ship itself. “We are the Bentusi and welcome you among space-fairing cultures. The Unbound. The outer-rim trade routes were established in the First Time by our ancestors. The resources you gather are of value to the Bentusi Exchange. They will serve as an acceptable medium for trade.” He stared blankly ahead, his mouth hanging open a little, unsure how to process the situation. “It has been our custom to equip our partners with an exchange unit. It has therefore been provided to your ambassador as a gesture of good will.” The craft now launched from the alien vessel.

“Fleet, this is the ambassador. We are clear of the Bentusi vessel, all systems are green. Harbour control has released guidance and the exchange unit is secure. Receiving crews, prep the quarantine chamber.”

“Roger that, quarantine chambers standing by.”

As they waited for more information, he sat in his seat wondering how vast the galaxy must be. How many factions were there to consider other than the ones they’ve met? How many were hostile, and how many of them would they encounter?

“Bentusi trade link established,” Karan’s voice said breaking the silence.

“Turanic Raiders, servants of the Taiidan are arriving. They must not learn of our contact. We must depart. All that moves is easily heard in the void. We will listen for you. Farewell.” As sudden as was their arrival, so could be said for their departure. They vanished into the yellow doorway.