Chapter 7
ERIC
He hadn’t been able to think straight throughout the past hour; he assumed many felt the same. It was hard to believe in coincidence when his entire childhood he knew the tales. “Those who leave before the penance paid be punished by he whose hand shapes what is.” He spent many days in Saju-ka’s libraries reading from morning to afternoon, the immersive stories surrounding the first city and it’s eventual downfall followed by the first people’s migration north.
The lobby’s screen flicked on, returning him to the moment. “A captured enemy corvette has given us insight into the alien menace we faced today. After careful interrogations, we discovered they are known as the Turanic Raiders. They were hired to patrol the edges of our system to ensure no craft leaves. They suspected these were the intentions of the Khar-Selim and destroyed it. When the corvette-class ship was opened, a liquid solution poured out. We assume it’s their natural environment. The creature survived for only twenty minutes before suffocating.” An image of the pilot appeared beside the reporter. Tall, pale white skin, black eyes, no hair, and what he could compare to gills under the chin. She continued, “We will now show recordings recovered from the Khar-Selim’s black box. Playing last entry.”
The screen showed only an audio wave “What do you mean you detect a hyperspace entry? The Mothership isn’t due for—”
“Sir, I have multiple contacts on closing vectors. Unknown profiles. No recognition codes. Uh, they’re not ours.”
“Well, if they’re not ours, who the hell are they?”
“Sir, they’re coming in fast. Check. Incoming fire, we are under attack! They’re getting through! Preaches across all decks, hull integrity failing!”
“Khar-Selim to Mothership! If you are receiving, abort hyperdrive test. Repeat: abort hyperdrive test!” Only static followed.
The reporter returned to the screen. “It appears we do have an enemy out there, it is no longer myth. With the support ship gone, we will return to Scaffold for repairs and sub-light engine tuning. This is Natalia Kaalel signing off. Sajuuk have mercy on us all.”
He stood in silence as the screen flicked off. He was convinced these enemies controlling the pirates were the same as those of the legends. A great evil, one that drove them from paradise to the world of their penance. It was the last part, now, that he couldn’t help wondering about. The word was specific: a voluntary punishment. A punishment for what? That he did not know. Did it mean their ancestors had guilt for something long ago? What crime was so terrible to have an entire planet’s population put into exile?
His concentration was broken as a person ran into the room, a girl with short-cut brown hair. Her eyes reddened, she kept walking not noticing him. Crying, he thought. Not surprising given what’s come to light. Still, she looked familiar. Then remembered a list of pilots’ portraits from a news update during the battle. She was out there fighting for her life, fighting for his too.
He questioned the reasons for his decision to come. He felt helpless the entire time the battle was ongoing, but all he could do was watch from a distance and listen to the occasional interruptions from Intel or Command, and the screen to see what new data was available. He wanted to help out, but knew not how.
Another stepped into the room, this one he recognized. Mark Soban, son of the Hellbringer, as his people called him. Supposedly he traversed the Great Desert alone at age twelve, then joined flight academy and made a name for himself there too. Under his father’s influence, of course—a man he had no respect for, a man who slaughtered thousands of Gaalsien and who led the assault on Saju-ka when his parents were killed. Out of the many pilots that died today, he survived. Part of him wished he hadn’t, callous though it might be.
“A girl came past here, right?” he asked.
He nodded, and the Soban ran off after her.
He did risk his life for her, he saw it himself. He was then torn between wanting to hate him for the pain his father had caused him and his people and giving him a chance to prove his worth. He decided to follow and find out more.
He approached the door Mark ran to and listened in.
“It changes everything now. I want to blame someone, but there isn't anyone,” he said.
“Look at you. I’m not the only one blaming myself. Mark, you did everything you possibly could. Our wingmen weren’t trained for this; none of us were, and it’s a miracle we made it out alive.” There was a brief silence, then she continued: “I’m uneasy now, though. I mean, what if we’re in real trouble? Like, all of Kharak?”
“It’s best not to go there. We don’t know anything. And even if we did, what can we do? We’re fighter pilots.”
“I personally am scared shitless, and I grew up in a scorching hot desert where people could die at any moment from too many ways to count.”
“I think when we dock with Scaffold there’s gonna be a change of plans. Trained pilots are needed if there’s combat to come. Which means my father and I along with many others will more than likely be tagging along. I don’t know. I’ll help out however I can either way.” He wasn’t excited about that thought.
“Huh? They want us back in the hangar for briefing,” she said. “Great.”
“Well, let’s get this over with.”
He rushed off down the hall to avoid being seen. Though curiosity overtook him, and he followed making sure to keep a fair distance. He got into the elevator next to the one they took along with a swarm of others, presumably other pilots being called to this briefing.
The mood of this crowd was noticeably somber from what they had just been through, or at least what some of them had just been through. There were more pilots than ships, currently. The doors opened and he moved with the group silently, trying not to be noticed. Ridiculous, he thought, as it wasn’t like he had to hide.
Some faces he recognized, the two from earlier, Jay who he only met recently, and up on the podium were Fleet Intelligence, Leonard Naabal who is strike command, Cromell Soban who is head of security, and a few others. It was Leonard who spoke first.
“In light of recent events, we are debriefing all pilots to the possibility of an attack on our home. You are our primary line of defence and we rely on your abilities to protect us. We do realize many of you are currently traumatized by what has come to pass. I lost my nephew today. Believe me when I say our thoughts go out to you. Fleet Intelligence will take it from here.”
“What I am about to tell you is confidential information. Only the council of Sas and a few higher-ups in the private police force know these facts. Contact with the Khar-Selim was lost several weeks ago.” He paused as the crowd erupted in confused chatter. He signalled them to quiet down, and continued. “We had no knowledge of what had happened. The flight recordings revealed they did in fact attempt to communicate with us, however, we never received the message. We know very little at this time. What we do know is that there is an enemy out there, and we have successfully defended ourselves against them. Unfortunately, we were unable to salvage many of their crafts. Most attempts resulted in them scuttling as our salvagers were latching on, so we have no way to know more. We will dock with Scaffold and while the sub-light drives are being completed, we will decide whether or not it is feasible to bring on more military forces. We have sent communications to the station. Markus Soban and a number of others are on their way to be briefed on the situation. That is all I can tell you at this point.” He left the podium and was escorted to the elevator by Cromell.
Leonard spoke again. “It is also worth mentioning that training will begin soon for new pilots who wish to join our ranks. There’s simply not enough trained professionals on the ship at the moment to face a larger threat than what we have come across. That being said, many non-essential crews will be gradually moved from their quarters near you and relocated elsewhere on the ship, so don’t be surprised if your neighbours are suddenly evicted. We urge you to push for those you think may qualify to enlist. We will not be forcing anyone to sign up, as there is a high possibility of death as we all know too well after today.” He took a moment of silence. “Thank you all for coming. Dismissed.” The man could barely utter the last sentence, and stormed off away from the group gathered around.
He tried to find out where Jay was to ask to be informed when he could sign up, and found him over with Mark and his wingman. He didn’t know they were acquainted, and changed his mind. He was sure it would be advertised well enough.