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Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy, #1)
Ratings:
521 pages6 hours
Summary
SHADOWS BEAR NO NAMES
(The Blackened Prophecy Book 1)
Ray just wants to be left alone.
He is a simple man with every day issues like the rest of us.
He captains a rusty old Consortium freighter for a few credits a month and doesn’t care much about anything else.
Then fate decides to play a game and puts Ray in the center of an intergalactic conspiracy that involves a first contact scenario that may very well be the end of human race.
----------------
Approx Lenght: 113.000 words
Poor Ray.
Publisher: Oganalp CanatanReleased: Feb 16, 2016ISBN: 9781524278496Format: book
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Shadows Bear No Names (The Blackened Prophecy, #1) - Oganalp Canatan
one
INTO THE VOID
Praetor Ga’an, we are ready to engage the enemy and die a glorious death.
Left Hand’s voice gave no hint of fear.
He is afraid of the outcome, but too proud to admit it, like the rest of us. Too proud to acknowledge our end… You will die when you are ordered to do so. Until such a time comes, obey and serve.
Meaningless words, written for rituals and ceremonial times. We, the Nucteel are now at war. Our final war.
Ga’an knew it only too well; even if his officer voiced his fear of facing his true death, he wouldn’t dare show his feelings, afraid of the shame he would bring on his family name. Every soldier died twice in the Empire. First, when they entered service, severing their family ties, and again when the real death embraced them in battle. Their pride defined their ways and their pride ensured their doom.
Praetor waved to his Left Hand dismissively and turned his attention back to the maps before him. He wasn’t in the mood to carry out formalities in such a desperate situation. The outlook was dim and growing darker by the hour.
His command carrier, Mira, was positioned in the middle of the map display with countless blue triangles circling the super-titan. The scanners showed no other contacts but Ga’an knew they were outnumbered and outgunned. Too proud to admit we were weak until it was too late. There had been skirmishes between their scouts and Baeal—that was the name the Wise Ones had given to their enemy—but the enemy’s main forces were holding back for now, awaiting their last stand.
Baeal. A fitting name. It meant Death Bringer,
and they were raining death on Ga’an’s people. It was the name of The First Evil, the first broken blood told in the religious texts, heeding the words of darkness and taking innocent lives for a life eternal. A religious folklore. A tale for children.
How many cycles?
Ga’an mumbled to himself. He had been fighting the battle for well over thirty cycles now, seven of them as a Praetor. Every day, thousands died or lived to see another dawn by his command. In his first few weeks, Ga’an kept a memory of each soul he sent to death, mourning for their families and a life unlived. Soon, the task became impossible. He’d refused the post when the previous commander of the fleets had fallen, but his position as second-in-command and the passionate will of his soldiers had dictated he take the charge. That, and the will of the Emperor. Ga’an wondered how many of those soldiers were still alive. He felt old. Too old.
Baeal,
he murmured. The unknown force had appeared out of nowhere some forty cycles ago. He was far too tired to remember the exact date, not that he cared much. Ga’an’s people had learnt that Baeal was an unstoppable menace soon after their first contact. Now, he’d been in too many battles to remember what it was like before them. In these forty-some cycles of struggle, they’d never had any direct contact. No one knew why the invaders had come or what they wanted. Baeal had simply come and started terrorizing space.
The Nucteel’s massive armada stood before him, over two thousand destroyers and more than fifty titans. Like Mira, the titans were named after their ancestors: Ka’nach, Jar’n, Peku, Tabai, Akna and more, each representing another glorious moment of the Empire’s past. Mira. The Guardian of Home. It was a fitting name, but Ga’an didn’t fool himself even for a second that names would save them from the carnage up ahead.
The Praetor found himself admiring Baeal forces’ crude effectiveness. They didn’t bother with strategic maneuvers or detailed tactics, instead using sheer force to smash Ga’an’s fleet like a blacksmith’s hammer. Their main force seemed infinite, and each day more poured from the enemy dimension gates. If the Nucteel outriders were lucky or skillful enough to stay alive, they passed the numbers to the fleet, updating the Praetor’s battle plans.
Our arrogance and self-confidence made us lazy. We were unprepared for such an enemy. We put our faith in some stone trinkets. Children’s stories never save you. Maybe his forces needed a reckless attitude, too. He looked at his family circlet; a ring made from finest jewelry, stones of tyigma mined from molten rocks that shone in bright silver color, with six small discs. Ga’an’s eyes stood on the largest circle. It had been almost a full cycle since he last saw his soul mate. He growled, Damn you.
Three of the six circles were now empty. He couldn’t bear re-living the memory of breaking his own sons’ discs, no matter how many cycles had passed. Imha. Ran. Ni’a. I will avenge your souls.
The flickering screen rescued the battle-worn Praetor from another war he’d been enduring lately—melancholia. It was the First Dearant on the screen and Ga’an was thankful for the distraction. He already knew what his officer was about to say.
Praetor Ga’an, it is time for our death,
the man announced, squaring his shoulders. The gate has become active.
Any news from the Wise Ones?
No, Praetor. The Arinar remained inactive. None of the candidates were able to activate the stones as the scribes told.
And the statue? Any more visions?
Nothing, Praetor. No energy readings, no hidden mechanisms. It is only a statue.
Ga’an sighed. Then death will guide us home.
He saluted the First Dearant and turned toward the observation window. Ga’an didn’t think they would win a war with some statues but one thing was clear, the scriptures said they needed a touched one to activate the Arinar, someone in accord with the energy of the artifacts. They hadn’t found any. For years, the Inquisitors of his Majesty had searched for touched ones; people who could communicate with the stones, but never found one. Ga’an remembered when The Emperor himself tried to activate the stones. The propaganda and media following his failure lasted cycles. The Emperor, no matter how harsh a ruler, was an insightful man. He had ordered Ga’an to prepare for this scenario from the very beginning, and prepare the Praetor had. Expect the worst.
As if to confirm his darkest thoughts, a gigantic fleet began pouring from the huge, artificial black hole. Ga’an couldn’t help but wince at the sight of the alien armada coming through the gate. Black, like the void itself and threatening with their insectoid shapes.
And so, they have come.
***
Hard to port!
The super-titan wobbled hard as it took another blow to the belly. The battle was fierce and Ga’an had resorted to drastic maneuvers more than a few times to avoid colliding with the enemy capital. Baeal forces seemed to welcome the chance to collide with the Nucteel destroyers, ignoring the hazards or collateral damage. Ga’an didn’t have the luxury of ramming ships around like children’s toys.
Curse the blood!
he whispered as they cleared off the enemy mother ship by the skin of their teeth. He wondered if they would be able to take down the worm-like monster at all. Ga’an was pushing Mira and the crew to the limits of their abilities, but their efforts were in vain. Two times now, the super-titan had faced its opponent head-to-head, raining fire on the hulking monster, only to divert hard in the end, avoiding death by the skin of their teeth. When the behemoth passed, it wasn’t raining fire; it was raining the true death itself.
At their first clash, Praetor’s ship had already lost its port shields, leaving the hull vulnerable. Ga’an had no data on how big the enemy capital was but it looked at least six times the size of Mira and under each of the shell-like platings covering its surface was a turret, delivering a serious punch to Ga’an’s super-titan.
Their second run was worse. A total disaster,
his teacher back in war academy would say. The mother ship had fired all its side turrets, focusing on the forward fuselage as Mira made another pass. Although their counter-salvo had inflicted a considerable blow, the price tag was expensive; now the right-hand bow was half destroyed, taking one of the main mortar batteries with it. Almost a quarter of the ship’s firepower was done for. Damage reports were sketchy at best with all the chaos on those decks, but it looked like Mira was flying with one less forward thruster.
Just as Mira completed her flanking move, a deafening sound echoed throughout the ship’s speakers and a violent blast hurled the crew in all directions, scattering them around the bridge like leaves in autumn’s wind. Alarms were ringing and half the room was on fire. Ga’an was stuck under one of the fallen ceiling panels, which probably saved his life. The last salvo hit directly the deck on top of his captain’s chair, tearing half the hull plate. The command center was reduced to debris and they were venting out their air. Most of the crew died on the spot when the first beams reached them. The ones who were lucky—or unlucky—enough to survive the initial volley were sucked into space through the side wall. Before the emergency barrier came online, Ga’an watched seven of his men fly into the deep dark. Like dry leaves in autumn winds. The Praetor didn’t have the luxury of mourning the dead though, he was alive and the battle was raging.
He pulled himself from under the debris with some effort. He couldn’t see any serious damage to his legs, just a funny, tingling sensation in his left knee. He grimaced whenever he had to lean on his injured side. Something I can ignore. Ga’an thought he would need medical attention sooner or later. If he lived another day.
Report!
he barked at his Left Hand.
Praetor, we lost control of the ship!
His commanding officer was still at his post, trembling. Half of his head was covered in blood. The helm is not responding and we lost power to the engines. We are adrift!
Left Hand was half shouting, half crying.
Ga’an thought he understood the man’s feelings. They were headed toward their doom, their true death, but his Left Hand didn’t cry because the true death was at hand. He was angry at being helpless before the brutal odds. What made it worse was; every time the enemy mother ship fired, it broadcasted an unstoppable sound through Mira’s internal speakers like a herald of destruction. The irritation was nerve wrecking.
The Praetor looked around one last time hoping to find a spark of promise. Something that would give them the chance to meet their end in glory. He saw none. Ga’an could see the worm-like ship turning around in the distance through the big gap at the far end of the bridge. The enemy behemoth had a strange, black smoke covering its hull, giving the ship an eerie feeling of life. A living, breathing machine of doom with a size to match the Imperial Island. His command post became a huge gallery to witness their final moments, a premium spot to watch the fireworks.
Left Hand, give the abandon ship signal and take out your key.
If this was to be his last order, he wanted it to mean something. He took out his necklace, a rectangular glass key glowing with pale green light. At the other end of the station, his first officer took out a similar key. His was in yellow, glowing like Ga’an’s own. Computer, begin self-destruct countdown. Five turns.
Self-destruct lockdown. Authorization keys required,
a stern male voice responded.
Ga’an put his key into one of the sockets positioned near his seat and pushed it all the way into the hole. He turned back to his Left Hand and nodded at him to do the same. When the man placed the other key into the hole on top of the tactical console, the alarms abruptly went silent, leaving the male computer voice echo through the halls of Mira.
Command verified. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Beginning silent countdown.
Ga’an’s jaw tightened. He gave a curt nod to his Left Hand. It was an honor, Commander Vrishna.
Ga’an was a man of few words and his emotions were buried deep under his stone like face but this time, Ga’an allowed himself to show his pride of Vrishna.
The honor is mine, Praetor.
The man saluted in equal awe.
Take the remaining crew to the escape pods and make for the nearest ship,
Ga’an said. Report to the First Dearant and continue your battle.
We will seek glory per your orders, Praetor. May you die a glorious death.
Death will guide me home.
The commander rushed to the exit, screaming orders at the bridge crew, sending them to the emergency pods. It seemed to Ga’an that Left Hand regained his courage, seeing his Praetor standing tall and strong even at the very end of his time, staring into the eyes of death itself. Ga’an nodded after the man. Vrishna had truly become a fine officer.
Tradition dictated the ship’s captain go down with it. Ga’an was always skeptical of ceremonial ways, but this was one custom he was willing to honor.
He half-sat, half-fell near one of the consoles and found a suitable spot before the gap to watch the worm-shaped enemy ship lazily rounding Mira. If the captain of his nemesis was half as intelligent as Ga’an suspected, he—Or she, we do not even know how they look—would know this final pass would take down the wounded and broken Mira for good.
Ga’an grinned. He was betting on another close pass. It was one of the main enemy capital ship maneuvers; making a close pass, firing everything they got onto their target and relying on their superior hull strength. Baeal didn’t care much about the damage their ships got in return. It was all about taking down your opponent.
Come. Come and meet the abyss. For all the pain he’d suffered under the never-ending invasion of the Baeal nightmare, Ga’an saw it as his right to be granted the chance to watch his sworn enemy burn. He’d spent his life fighting the unknown. The war and Ga’an’s duties to his people as Praetor held him from attending the final requiem of his son Ran, who had fallen at the outer frontier. No, this time, I will have my revenge. The self-destruct would take down the insectoid horror or cripple it enough to make it vulnerable. Then, the rest of the fleet could finish the job.
Now the mother ship faced Mira. Ga’an thought of ancient gladiators battling in the arenas to entertain the Emperor. Like two warriors the ships stared at each other, knowing the next few minutes would irreversibly alter their fates. It would be easy for the Baeal mother ship to fire from that safe distance and blow Mira away, but Ga’an guessed it would be too easy to satisfy the warmonger of Baeal. Instead, the hulking death drifted slowly toward Mira, filling his view. Ga’an tried to make out the details of his killer. He wanted to have the memory, telling the tale of his battle in the hall of his ancestors and how he beat an unbeatable menace. He closed his eyes and awaited the irritating firing signal coming from the mother ship.
Collision warning.
What!
Ga’an opened his eyes and turned toward the main console, as if to face the owner of the computerized male voice. Damn the blood!
he screamed at his injuries when his vision blurred.
Curses and curses on the tainted blood!
He stood up awkwardly, keeping his weight off his left leg, hoping to see what was happening. The radar was long dead and his only means to see what was going on was through the hole punched through his bridge.
What collision!
Ga’an kicked a fallen chair, ignoring the spikes of pain going all the way to his neck. He didn’t realize he was yelling. Speak, you pitiful excuse of a machine!
He dashed to the very edge of the gap.
First, he saw nothing but the huge mother ship hovering over Mira. Thousands of craft in all sizes were locked in a fight in the distance. Their turrets created a lightshow.
Curses,
he whispered, turning back to check the other end. He caught a glimpse of another cruiser passing the stern of the command ship. Curses!
his eyes opened wide. Ga’an jumped for something to hold on to. Curses, curses, curses!
A thunderous sound deafened him. The violent shake knocked his head twice against the metal rails he grasped and he felt the warmth of his dripping blood, but somehow he held on.
I will not be stripped of my revenge!
One of his own cruisers crashed right into the main thruster of Mira, almost dividing the ship in half. Several explosions followed the initial hit, although not as fierce as the initial blow, still rattling the ship like a baby’s cradle.
Structural damage in antimatter drive core.
Report!
the Praetor yelled back but the computer was deaf to his commands, repeating its words in its own monotonous voice.
Ga’an ignored the machine; it was a one-way trip for him anyway. Smoke filled the bridge, burning out what little oxygen left on the depressurized bridge. The Praetor crawled back toward the gap to see the fate of the other cruiser but while making his way to the opening, he realized something disturbing; the worm-like mother ship had passed Mira without firing a shot and continued toward the core conflict, ignoring her altogether.
Curse the spirits! Curse the ancient blood! Curse those bloody statues!
Ga’an didn’t know if it was the anguish of grief or rage, but he howled. Mira should have blown by now. I will have revenge!
He hopped back toward the main console to manually execute the self-destruct. If he managed to ignite the core now, it would still be enough to damage the mother ship.
Proximity alert. Divert course.
Must I be interrupted at every turn!
Ga’an turned back to the opening to see what the computer was babbling about. What—
As the smoke cleared, a huge black hole, darker than the night itself appeared before his eyes. Ga’an didn’t realize that in all this madness, the crash had altered Mira’s course. Now, she was headed directly into the Baeal dimension gate.
Ga’an didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He watched the gate’s red illuminated symbols grow before him until all he faced was the shimmering darkness that rippled like a thick fluid.
He closed his eyes slowly, exhaling in acceptance. No matter how hard he fought, Ga’an couldn’t escape the inevitable defeat. He leaned on a nearby console and slipped down to sit. He relaxed his leg and stared into the infinite blackness.
Auto destruct imminent. May you die a glorious death.
A sudden bright light blinded him and everything went dark.
Chapter TWO
YET ANOTHER HAPPY LANDING
How are you, Skipper?
Trying to keep my yawns back.
Ray closed his mouth with his hand. How long was I asleep?
You hit the bunk right after we took the final jump gate, right?
Ray nodded.
Hmm. Twelve hours or so. Give or take. Sleepy head.
Sarah chuckled.
I like spending time in there.
You could’ve joined us in the mess hall. We played cards!
Sarah, I—
I know, all right,
Sarah intervened. You don’t want to get involved.
I slept!
Alone.
Alone.
Ray raised his finger at Sarah to hold on, reaching for the intercom terminal near the main elevator door at the end of the crew quarters. He touched a button to bring out the holographic interface. Ray here, anything going on?
A signal beeped once, followed by a man’s voice. Aliens invaded the galaxy and I won the Consortium lottery!
That dull?
What did you expect, boss? We’re a cargo ship. Alec out.
Good,
Ray mumbled.
Maybe we should requisition for a jump drive,
Sarah suggested.
Well, it would cut the trip time to a couple of hours but no one in Consortium would care about retrofitting this old lady with a jump drive.
Yeah. It could also overload and shred us to pieces with that old power core.
Ray smiled. There’s also that. No trouble, no fuss.
He reached for the elevator call button but the floor display blinked as busy. How can the elevator be busy on a six-man cargo ship?
It’s Rahul.
Sarah smiled, patting Ray’s shoulder. He was moving some containers from the engineering deck to the aft cargo bay.
Why?
"Said one of the containers growled at him."
What?
Ray blinked.
You know the kid. Probably keeping busy.
Ray sighed, And the elevator.
And the elevator,
Sarah nodded. So, Bunari…
What about it?
You nervous?
Ray raised an eyebrow. Why should I be?
You know,
Sarah shrugged, religious guys. Different customs and all…
Never had any dealings with the bunch,
Ray clicked his tongue, but I doubt they are anything like those freaks living in the outer rim. These are just people with different beliefs.
Sarah knit her brows. True, if half of those stories are true about the Cosmon Brotherhood…
She made a gesture as if she was shivering.
Those are maniacs. Burning people alive at the stake because they don’t believe in their God. That…what was his name?
Archibald Cosmon.
Yeah, that Cosmon freak. Preaching the end of times, how all should bow to the harbinger of doom. You know the footage on the network. I never saw anything like that about Bunari.
Why don’t they do anything about it?
Who?
You know,
Sarah pursed her lips. Consortium.
Heh, I wouldn’t be surprised if our beloved Consortium helped their creation in the first place.
You really believe that?
That’s capitalism for you.
Ray shrugged. Create a threat, herd the fear. Not much has changed in our history. A trade consortium ending up as the governor of human capital is capable of everything in my book. Besides, their hideout’s far away, deep within the storm clouds outside of Consortium’s borders. It makes it hard to control their movements in the outer rim.
Not too far away to have suicide attacks on Earth.
Ideas travel distances faster than us, humans.
Sarah stood silent for a moment before she spoke again. Do you think they’ll keep us on this line or is it a one-time job?
Earth to Bunari line? I don’t think so,
Ray shook his head. "We’re a substitute for Alexia for this run. Maybe a drop every now and then, but if I can get my train liner license, we may end up on a better lane. Like the Sol, Arcturus line maybe. Bunari is a small planet with a few million people on it. Not much trade volume."
"We’ll have to leave Canaar then, right?"
"Canaar’s a good ship but she’s old. We can’t tow five-kilometer long ore freighters with it. They’ll probably assign me to another ship and give Canaar to a fresh captain."
Will you take us with you?
You know I would try everything to keep the team together. It’s up to Headquarters in the end. They own the ships, they own our licenses.
They pay the salaries. They make the calls.
They make the calls,
Ray nodded.
The beeping of the elevator announced its arrival. There she is!
Sarah sounded relieved.
Ray was happy for the interruption as well. The topic was a tad too morbid for his comfort. So, to the engineering deck?
he asked.
Yeah, have to wear my uniform. Security Officer and all that, you know.
You look good in casuals.
Sarah’s eyes shone playfully. We don’t want the believers to know our secret in the Core systems.
Our secret?
That we love to wear casual clothes on cargo ships. What else it could be? Oh, you’re such a bad boy, Skipper?
Sarah chuckled. I also have some paperwork to handle before we land.
We left Mars almost two weeks ago, Sarah.
Sarah shrugged apologetically. I had other matters to attend to.
Yeah—
Ray started but an announcement from the intercom cut him short.
The glorious Captain of Captains, there’s a green planet before us. To the bridge, please.
Sarah laughed, Well, that’s Alec for you.
She exited the cabin as the elevator made its way to the Engineering deck. See you after the landing, Skipper,
she winked behind the closing door.
Yeah, duty calls,
Ray whispered, selecting the bridge deck from the control panel.
***
Ray watched the green sphere grow before him as Canaar slowly approached the small planet. With flora glowing in vivid greens and blue reflections from the atmosphere, the place had an Earth-like look. But the dense jungle formations clearly distinguished this planet from the industrialized and over-populated human capital.
Canaar brought Ray and the crew to their next stop just as she always did; the comfort of reliability relaxing her passengers. She was an Atlas-class transport, an older but solid model, retrofitted with standard navigation systems and automated functions. As some captains would say: Hardly the touch of a few buttons.
Religious or not, these people know how to keep a planet…well, like a planet.
Ray said.
Live and let live, eh?
Yeah, green and…alive.
I’m not sure how to feel about this.
This?
Ray asked, still staring through the bridge’s forward observation window.
Bunari, Skipper.
Alec made a wry face. I’m not too comfortable around these people.
As if you’ve ever visited the place before.
What’s there to see? Buildings jumped out of medieval times. A city full of crazy priests and their Light. Did you even see their star port? It looks like that mosque in Agra.
Taj Mahal?
"Yeah, the one on the photos Rahul loves to show. I don’t understand why the Alexia couldn’t make this run, Alec muttered. He turned to Halle, attending the communications console behind him.
Perhaps her crew didn’t want to be here?"
"Alec, for the tenth time, Alexia is back on Mars. The new captain didn’t know a thing about piloting the Atlas and crisped the engines for good. The middle-aged woman answered patiently from her station.
There’s no way for them to make it all the way here from Core systems in time. These transports don’t have jump drives as you know. So, we’re here."
It’s just a colony, Alec.
Ray gave a faint smile. Their great-grandfathers were from Earth.
Yeah, religious grandfathers. And burning your engines? Sounds like something a moron would do.
Alec folded his arms, turning back to watch their approach on planet.
Yeah, just make sure you don’t crash us into that planet.
Ray turned to wink at Halle.
Ha-ha, very funny Captain.
Alec raised his arms and waved them like a bird’s wings. I fly like a beautiful butterfly, with my colorful wings and all.
Don’t worry.
Ray patted him on the shoulder. You’ll be a fine butterfly yourself. Purple spots and pink lines.
Ha-ha.
They both knew this was a joke. Alec Korbin was one of the best officers Ray had ever worked with. Fifteen more months and Alec would be eligible for his own license from Consortium’s trade fleet.
Ray cleared his throat and moved back to his seat. We’re here to make some extra bucks we all can use. Let’s drop the cargo and be on our way,
his tone suggested the chatter was over.
Ray always thought it was important to raise the mood and was always friendly with his crew—some would suggest too friendly—but their line of work didn’t have much room for sloppiness. They were about to land in a densely populated area with a hundred-and-seventy-meter ship towing container tanks five times that size, full of niobium—volatile ship fuel.
Ray observed the navigation data on his screen again. I want to be done with this before dinner.
You don’t like Bunari either?
Alec was smiling. He raised an eyebrow and changed his voice, mimicking the famous football announcer on Channel Sports-X. Wonderful jungle planet with religious fanatics who can cut your tongue for blasphemy.
That’s speculation. You know I don’t like crowds in general.
Ray shrugged. I just want to get paid and park the ship somewhere remote.
He ticked his tongue, following a deep breath. And I think I like my tongue.
No R-and-R, skipper? We’ve been out in space for two weeks.
Halle pursed her lips.
Yeah, about that,
Alec intervened. When will we have a jump drive?
Ray sighed. "Alec, we won’t."
Just wanted to try my luck.
"Canaar’s too old a model for that kind of power requirement," Halle shrugged, not getting Alec’s sarcasm.
No jump drives and no R-and-R. Solitude’s enough for me.
Ray said, waving the two to get on with their work. You two can have some fun after we leave Bunari and visit Wilkins Port on our way back.
We’re going to Wilkins?
Alec asked in excitement.
Yes, just…
Ray winced, remember to stay away from the station manager’s daughter this time.
Haha! Wilkins!
The huge transport ship cut its engines as the flight computers positioned the ship for atmospheric entry as their talk came to an end. Just like the saying, hardly the touch of a few buttons for the crew. The bulk of the work was on the computers’ shoulders. Almost everything about ship travel was automatic these days.
Entering atmosphere,
echoed a dull, mechanical female voice, announcing the planetary landing to bridge personnel.
So far, so good.
Ray checked his monitor. Lieutenant Martins, please be kind enough to sound the horn. Inform our hosts of our approach.
Aye, Skipper,
Halle turned back to her station and put her headphones on.
Ray reached for the intercom button to alert the rest of the crew. Keep tight everyone. Starting descent.
There was no response, only static.
Hello? Anyone getting this? Dr. Sanders? Sarah? Rahul?
Ray switched channels and tried again. Alec, try it from your end.
Hey!
Alec radioed. Come out, the captain won’t bite.
There was no response, only static.
I hate these older model consoles.
Ray frowned, fiddling a few more times with the holographic interface with no luck. Come on!
Ray slammed his hand on the console. I thought Rahul fixed this thing already!
He did, Boss. It was working two hours ago.
Alec fiddled with his terminal’s controls but there was only the hissing of static.
Ray licked his lips, trying to hold back a few nice comments that came to mind about Rahul and his abilities. Halle, patch the live camera feed to my end.
The procedure required all stations to acknowledge the landing and report. If he didn’t have a green light from all the stations, regulations required him to abort. It also meant a few hours down the drain and an ear-boxing from Headquarters. The Mourning Chain they called it, everyone in the system forwarding the complaint to another until it returned to Ray like an avalanche of discontent from the Executive of Finances. This meant trouble for him and for the team. Back on Earth, the home of Consortium, money and time meant everything.
Halle, I’m still waiting for that feed!
T-they’re not here, Captain,
Halle faltered. I can’t reach any of the cameras on deck four.
What do you mean you ‘can’t reach’?
Ray sighed. This landing was falling apart.
Halle shook her head in surprise. The cameras aren’t connected to the system, Captain. They’re not plugged in.
The following silence was nerve-racking. Ray didn’t say a word for almost a minute, watching the green planet fill the bridge window.
All right, Alec, abort the landing.
He stood and strode to the elevator at the back of the bridge. Halle, contact the tower, get us a new clearance. Tell them we had a problem with our landing gear or something,
he said without looking back. One thing was certain; he and the kid had a nice chat coming.
Alec rose from his seat. Captain, the boy did what you asked. Perhaps—
but Ray stopped him with a firm gesture.
As he reached for the button, the elevator doors opened.
Holy Mother!
Ray rushed into the cabin. Rahul! Alec help me!
Rahul’s coveralls were soaked in blood, his right eye missing. His thin frame shook, mumbling inaudible words interrupted by the blood filling his mouth—he was more raving in a trance than communicating. It was a miracle he’d made it to the bridge, leaking blood like that.
Ray held Rahul in his arms, trying to steer him to a chair. Alec was there in a flash, grabbing the poor kid. Rahul was a slight boy from Bangalore, but his uncontrollable trembling and injuries made him hard to carry.
Halle, get the trauma kit and find the doc!
Ray roared.
I—
The middle-aged communications officer stood paralyzed, staring at Rahul’s eye socket, covering her mouth to keep from screaming. The tears rolling down her cheeks reflected the small planet’s colors.
Lieutenant!
Alec barked at the mesmerized woman.
Halle blinked as if coming out of hypnosis, and rushed toward the medical cabinet at the far end of the bridge, frantically repeating Oh my God!
with every step.
Ray, we need to get him to the med bay.
Alec’s stare was grim. He intended for the elevator but the doors closed and the cabin left the deck before any of them could move a finger.
Damn, it better be Sanders!
Alec grimaced and looked at the closed doors.
The elevator stopped at deck four, Engineering, and then it moved again.
All right, here it comes!
Ray nodded at the floor display. Halle, where is that cursed trauma kit!
Here!
Halle half staggered, half ran toward them, holding the red case with the white cross on it.
About time!
Alec was struggling to keep Rahul standing, Give him a sedative shot!
he
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