The Crucible- The Complete Series Page 7

It was time to throw myself into the task of researching the Hari System.

  Just as I rose to head to the generous work station in the corner of my room, there was a beep from the computer. “Incoming message.”

  I frowned. “Video or audio?”

  “Both. Do you accept the message?”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Lieutenant Hargrove.”

  I frowned. “Who the heck is that?”

  “He is currently in the Mari Sector escorting an archeological dig.”

  “Ah, okay, but why does he want to speak to me?”

  “Bereavement message,” the computer replied in an emotionless tone.

  I stiffened, a cold sensation pushing down my chest. It was customary for the Commander of a mission to personally contact the friends and family of a fallen comrade to deliver condolences.

  I’d had to do it a few times, and it was always awful.

  I took a deep breath. “Go ahead and patch it through.”

  “Have I reached Lieutenant Commander Nathan Shepherd?” A grave voice intoned over the audio as a hologram appeared over my workstation.

  I walked towards it and nodded. “Yes, Lieutenant, you have. Tell me who’s dead?” I demanded immediately. I wasn’t being rude – I was saving the Lieutenant the trouble of dancing around the subject.

  “According to our records, you knew an Ensign Weatherby,” Hargrove said through a heavy sigh.

  I stiffened, every muscle locking in place. A cold sick feeling descended through my gut.

  I pressed my lips together, took a breath, and nodded. “Yeah, I knew Weatherby. We grew up together and went to the Academy together. Christ… how did he die?”

  Hargrove looked away from me. It was such a jerky move that it would be impossible not to pick it up.

  I shivered, a chill feeling spreading up from the base of my spine.

  “Weatherby,” Hargrove began, but paused for a breath, his face crumpling with clear anguish.

  I felt my heart quicken in my chest, its beat reverberating up my throat until I could feel it pounding in my ears. “What happened to him?” I couldn’t keep my voice even anymore – it felt like my throat had constricted to the point of a pin.

  The hologram of Hargrove floated just above my desk, a few holographic controls arranged in a half-circle just around his image.

  I pushed a trembling hand towards one, commanding the image to zoom in.

  The image of Hargrove’s anguish expanded. I could see his bloodshot eyes, the sallow skin under his cheeks, even the crumpled frown that seemed permanently etched on his lips.

  I found myself swallowing hard. “Lieutenant, it’s okay, just tell me.”

  “We have no idea what happened to Ensign Weatherby. He was attacked by… something.”

  There was a real troubled edge to Hargrove’s voice. It shook with such a frightened quality to it, I felt my heartbeat double.

  I let my gaze flick to the left of Hargrove’s floating face. There, a hologram comprised of softly scrolling blue text outlined the nature of Weatherby’s assignment.

  It looked as if he’d been on detachment to some kind of archeological dig. They’d discovered some old ruins on a Class G moon in the Mari Sector.

  Class G.

  I frowned. Class G meant the moon was uninhabited.

  “Do you mean someone killed him?” I corrected.

  “No,” Hargrove’s voice came in bursts. I could see the sweat beading along his brow.

  “… I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do we,” he stated through a sharp breath. “Weatherby’s body… was torn to shreds,” his voice twisted with such anguish it made me shiver.

  Then I realized what he’d just said. “Torn to shreds?” I couldn’t keep my voice steady. Nor could I stop myself from locking my now bloodless hands on the side of the workbench and leaning in. “What the hell do you mean? That moon is meant to be uninhabited, right?”

  Hargrove nodded. “There’s no other biological entities on this rock apart from the research team and our detachment of military personnel.”

  “So somebody from one of those teams killed him,” I began, voice growing dark.

  “No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. We’ve already done the autopsy report. Ensign Weatherby was killed by… something. But it wasn’t a member of either teams.”

  “… Then someone else landed on that planet and killed him.”

  “We had a scout ship in orbit the whole time. Nobody else landed on that planet, Lieutenant Commander.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I stretched back, trying to recede from this mystery. “That’s… I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do we. But we’re looking into it. My doctor is running a full autopsy report of the Ensign’s remains now.”

  My blood chilled. I hated the word remains. It reduced a human to mere flesh and blood. Or whatever was left of it.

  “My doctor has contacted the Star Forces for further assistance in identifying the Ensign’s attacker. I haven’t heard back from her, but—” he stopped abruptly.

  “Lieutenant?” I leaned closer to the hologram.

  He was looking away from me, probably at some comms panel by his side. Clear confusion crossed over his already stress-lined face. “What the hell?” he said in a soft tone.

  “What is it?” My heart kept beating louder and louder until it felt it would drown out everything else.

  Hargrove took a moment to answer. “It seems Star Forces Central Command are dealing with this.”

  I felt my own brow crumple. If I didn’t feel so sick at learning of the death of my best friend, I’d have to laugh. Star Forces Central Command dealt with high-level command duties. It housed the Joint Admiral Committee. They dealt with wars and threats to the Alliance.

  “I… I…” Hargrove lost his train of thought. “They’re sending a ship… Christ, they’re sending the Armadale.”

  I couldn’t control myself this time – I let out a choked scoff. “That’s impossible. The Armadale is a strike ship. They’re currently dealing with pirates along the Northern Advance—”

  “Unless there’s a mistake with this transmission, they’re sending the Armadale,” Hargrove’s voice shook.

  Why the hell would Central Command send one of their fastest most effective strike ships to some obscure archeological dig?

  Ensign Weatherby had been one of my best friends. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of months, sure, but we always kept in contact. His death was crushing. But this – this didn’t make any sense.

  I passed a hand over my face, burying it into my palm momentarily.

  “Shit,” Hargrove swore softly.

  I dropped the hand.

  Hargrove’s brown skin had paled, his bloodshot eyes more pronounced than ever.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “They don’t want me to make contact with anyone regarding this situation. I didn’t get this message in time—”

  “Relax, Lieutenant. I can confirm you didn’t receive that communique until after you contacted me,” I said before digesting exactly what he’d said.

  … Central Command didn’t want information about this incident to spread?

  There were several possible reasons for a total communications blackout, but I couldn’t think of a good one that would apply now.

  Hargrove looked even more destroyed than when he’d begun the conversation. He kept glancing back at the screen to his left, as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading.

  I couldn’t believe it either.

  “I could lose my command for this.” He planted a hand on his brow, his fingers drawing hard against his hair.

  “No you couldn’t. You did not receive your orders before you put in this call. Plus, you have my assurance that I will treat this information as secret, and will not speak of it. I will abide by the same blackout orders you have received.”

  “This came directly from the Joint Committee,” Hargrove sai
d with a trembling voice.

  My mouth opened.

  I wanted to point out he had to be wrong. But unless this was all some kind of elaborate joke, Hargrove was telling the truth. He wouldn’t have achieved the position of lieutenant if he’d been incapable of reading communiques.

  … Which meant everything he’d just told me was true.

  We stared at each other for a few more shocked seconds.

  “Should I admit to Central Command that I’ve already contacted you?” Hargrove asked.

  It wasn’t a question he should be asking. It only had one possible answer.

  Yes.

  But I didn’t snap at him. I could sympathize with his pain and confusion, even if it meant I had to push mine back momentarily. “Yes, Lieutenant, let them know. I will also submit a report detailing that you are not at fault, and that I will abide by the blackout. Have you contacted anyone else?”

  “No. Just you. I was going to leave his family to last. I figured it would be easier to start with a fellow Star Forces officer.” Hargrove took a stiff breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, he appeared to have regained a modicum of control. “Thank you, sir.”

  I nodded my head low. “Good… luck, Lieutenant,” I managed. Though I’d intended my words to be encouraging, my voice faltered.

  Hargrove snapped a salute and ended the transmission.

  That left me alone in my room reeling.

  Max Weatherby was dead.

  … We’d grown up together, and he’d always been there – a voice of reason whenever my father’s imperial fervor drove me to the edge.

  Sure, we weren’t as close as we once were, but that didn’t matter.

  This still hurt like hell. This still felt as if someone had driven a knife right through my chest.

  I stood there for a few minutes with my hands clasped around the edges of the bench. My fingers were painfully stiff, and I watched as they drained to the color of bleached bone.

  Finally I pushed myself away.

  I staggered, legs like water.

  Grasping a hand over my mouth, I took a breath, letting it hiss between my fingers.

  I made it to my bed and sat down.

  Max was dead, and there wasn’t a damn person I could tell about it. By the sounds of Hargrove’s transmission, even Weatherby’s parents wouldn’t be finding out any time soon.

  A sense of loss swelled through my stomach, feeling as if it would make the rest of me shrivel and disappear.

  Then, at the edge of my grief, the questions started to build.

  What the hell had killed Max? And why was Central Command getting involved? It had to be something big – something massive to draw their attention.

  They were sending the Armadale too…. She was the kind of ship you sent in to make sorties behind enemy lines.

  I locked a hand on my jaw and drove my fingers so hard into the skin it was a surprise I didn’t pluck it off.

  Angling my head towards the window, I realized the Ra’xon had already left the station far behind. In fact, somewhere during my conversation with Hargrove, we’d jumped to beyond-light-speed. Slices of white light spun past the window, turning to every color of the spectrum as they disappeared.

  … I couldn’t stare at the view forever.

  Instead I closed my eyes.

  I’d lost my best friend and my ship in 24 hours. What would I lose tomorrow?

  Chapter 6

  Research Dig, Mari Sector

  Research Manager Amy Lee had no idea what was going on. Ever since they’d found the shredded remains of Ensign Weatherby’s body, all hell had broken lose.

  Not only was the camp afraid, but Central Command were swooping down on them.

  Amy didn’t know a great deal about the internal structure of the Star Forces – it was a topic she’d always chosen to stay away from – but this didn’t seem right. Didn’t the Central Command deal with threats to the whole Milky Way?

  According to Hargrove, Central Command were even sending another ship to ‘help,’ as he’d put it.

  She didn’t understand. Though Weatherby’s death had been unfortunate and regrettable, why would they need another detachment of the Star Forces? Surely one ship was enough. She’d only asked for military assistance in the first place because they had better matter scanners than she could source, and it would be easier to monitor the dig site from their scout ship.

  She was currently standing on one of the hover lifts as it descended into the cavern.

  The dig had halted.

  News Central Command were sending the Armadale had now spread. She had no idea what kind of ship that was, but some of her research staff seemed to think it was a big deal.

  Amy hadn’t always had the best interpersonal skills – they got in the way of research. She could still pick up on emotion though, and she understood her staff were scared stiff.

  She let her gaze flick towards the solid metal wall at the opposite side of the cavern. Her hover lift was agonizingly slow. She’d had to buy it with her meagre grant money. It was the same with the scaffolding that was now crisscrossed against the great wall.

  It was all cheap and nasty, and her engineer had to keep repairing it – much to his irritation.

  So her trip down to the bottom of the cavern was agonizingly slow. She let her gaze scan her once buzzing dig. Now all her staff were huddled in the main camp. Her ocular implants were acting up, but even from here she could see that their shoulders were all hunched in.

  With a terse exclamation, she pushed her glove over her helmet. She was still in a suit. In fact, she’d taken the opportunity to change into her mech suit. With a hardened exterior built for extreme pressures, it acted more like armor. It was bloody uncomfortable and stifling, though; it felt like you were walking around in a metal coffin. But it was solid and safe.

  And she wanted to feel safe right now.

  Though she kept telling her staff that everything was fine and that what had happened to Weatherby was just an isolated incident… she couldn’t push away her own fear. Not entirely. It clung to her like a fine mist on an autumn morning.

  Every movement she made was quicker and less smooth than usual. There was a constant niggling at the base of her spine, too.

  Sighing through frustration – angry at herself more than anything – she swiped a hand over her helmet again.

  The delicate work of this dig sight did not call for a mech suit, but she wouldn’t take it off.

  Her gaze drew towards the wall one last time.

  It was mesmerizing. She’d never seen anything like it.

  …

  Ensign Jenks

  I was on maintenance duty. It seemed that my skills – or lack thereof – would not be utilized on the Ra’xon.

  I’d been given one of the simplest tasks my superior could think of – a proximity scan. My task was to scan certain sectors of the ship with a handheld device, so that information could be compared with the ship’s internal scanners. If there was any discrepancy, the internal scanners should be recalibrated.

  It was boring work and considered menial, but that didn’t bother me.

  It would give me a chance to become better acquainted with the Ra’xon. It may even help me locate areas that could be hiding Omega class weapons. Though I doubted I would detect them with a hand scanner, I may be able to find areas of interest.

  I threw myself into the task, glad for the simple distraction.

  I slowly made my way around the various sectors of the ship. She really was massive. It was easily the largest vessel I’d ever served on.

  It was, however, not the largest vessel I had ever travelled on.

  Professor Axis’ facility was aboard the Alliance’s greatest starship. One barely anyone knew about. Its existence was a top secret amongst the Star Forces Central Command.

  It was called the Miracle. And it was anything but.

  It was where Professor Axis and the other stooges of the Alliance
conducted their most secret, illegal, and inhumane experiments. Far from prying eyes.

  I barely had to concentrate on my task as I walked, keeping a slow step as I methodically scanned a wall to my side. With a distracted gaze, I looked at my reflection in the shiny panel before me.

  I looked at least 10 years older than I was. But I felt at least 50 years older than that. To think, only five short years ago I had been filled with the passion and hope of a new recruit.

  Now there was nothing left but bitter anger at what had happened to me.

  I turned a corner and entered the next room I had to scan. It had a small viewing portal and a single small red couch. I’d already overheard a few crew referring to it as the lovers’ seat.

  It was currently occupied. Not by a couple, but by none other than Lieutenant Commander Nathan Shepherd.

  He barely looked up as I entered, then, as if realizing who I was, he snapped his gaze my way.

  There was a definite haunted edge to his expression. Though I tried to reason it was stress over losing his ship, he looked far worse than when I had seen him last.

  His cheeks were pale, lips softly turned into a weak frown, his gaze as dead as the wastelands of space.

  Maybe I gazed at him too long, because he cleared his throat, mistakenly believing I wished to converse with him.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

  I brought my scanner up and gestured with it. “We are recalibrating the internal scanners.”

  “Fun,” he managed. Then, rather than asking me questions relentlessly, he hunched his shoulders in, clasped his hands roughly in his lap, and stared at the floor. Not the view of the stars streaking past as we travelled beyond light speed, but his hands. He paid especial attention to his thumbs as he rolled them over one another. You would think that the secrets of the universe were written there in every whorl and mark.

  I frowned.

  If it were up to me, I would’ve turned around and walked out. But it was critical that I scan each section of the ship in order.

  So I had no option but to return to my work.

  Though this room was small, my scans had to be meticulous. I would take a slow step every five seconds or so, sometimes having to double back on myself.

  Soon I walked in front of the window, compromising the Lieutenant Commander’s view. It didn’t matter; he was still staring at his hands.