The artemis trilogy, p.56
The Artemis Trilogy, page 56
David returned to the science station. The readings of the Iota particles stared him in the face. Memories of the day at Nebula TPA-338 flooded back to him. So many lives lost. So many friends. And now, perhaps, an answer to the death of one person in particular.
THREE
Odyssey Station
The barman put the beer down and Jason Cassidy watched its frothy head run down the side of the glass. He’d lost count of how many he’d had for the evening. Thirteen? Fourteen? Twenty? He didn’t even know what time it was.
“Put it on my tab,” he said to Vic, the slovenly publican of The Bended Elbow—one of the more seedy establishments in one of the most shabby areas of Odyssey Station.
Vic leaned over the bar. Jason could swear the man brushed his teeth with garlic and only bathed on alternate days. “Your tab is getting close to its limit, Cassidy.”
Must be at least twenty beers then. Jason was surprised his math had been so accurate, considering how crappy he was feeling. “You know I’ll pay you back, right?”
“Uh-huh. It took forever for you to pay the last one. This’ll be your last drink, and then I’m cutting you off.”
Vic ambled away to help another patron while Jason took a large gulp of the amber fluid. Turning on his bar stool, he surveyed the near toilet-like conditions of his local tavern. Most people only came to the establishment once before figuring out they never wanted to return. Jason didn’t have that luxury. The Bended Elbow was located only a short distance down the promenade from his apartment. It was the most convenient watering hole to stumble home from.
He brought the glass to his mouth and polished off the last of the bland lager. He looked over to Vic wondering if he should try his luck again. With his head spinning, he decided against it. Even he knew when to quit. At least sometimes.
Before he could get up, a leggy blonde walked in and sat beside him. Either she was very attractive, or his beer goggles were working in overdrive. Jason assumed the latter because no one with that much class would enter this hole. Regardless, he thought, there was no harm in trying.
“Hello there,” he said, laying on the charm. Or at least what he thought was charm. “What are you doing here this evening?”
The woman looked him up and down. Even in his most drunken state, Jason thought he still had the goods.
She smiled at him. “Doing what everyone else is, I guess. Just trying to get a drink.”
“Can I ask why?” Jason asked, bemused. “You’ve seen this place, haven’t you?”
She laughed. “Well, there’s only so many places open at this time of the morning where I can find some fun.”
Yep, I’ve still got it. He put a hand on the back of her bar stool.
Then a shadow appeared over them.
“Is this piece of scum bothering you?”
Great. A boyfriend.
“I’ll have you know, I’m not a piece of—” He turned and smiled weakly. The shadow belonged to a hulking figure of a man. His shoulders were wider than Jason was tall. “Well, I guess I’m a little scummy.”
Crunch.
With one punch to the side of the head, Jason fell to the floor. The whole right side of his face went numb with pain.
“Hey, you can’t do that in here! Get the hell out before I call the cops!”
Ah, the siren song of Vic’s tobacco-stained voice.
The Mister Universe figure of his attacker took the blonde by the arm and hightailed it out of the bar. “C’mon, this place is a dive, anyway.”
Vic kneeled by Jason’s side. “Are you okay?”
Like smelling salts, Vic’s breath pulled him from the floor. “I’ve felt better.”
“You want me to call the station medics?”
Jason felt the side of his face. It hurt, but he imagined it would’ve hurt a lot more if he wasn’t so drunk. “I’ll live.” He brushed off the grub that had manifested itself on The Bended Elbow’s floor and stumbled to the exit.
“Oh, Cassidy,” Vic called.
“Yeah?”
“I’ll expect that tab paid tomorrow.”
Jason chuckled and set off down the promenade, which was empty apart from a few vagrants and other drunks like himself. Passing the large viewports, he gazed down at Vesta III. It was rather barren but was only in the second stage of terraformation. While it appeared little more than a lifeless rock now, in another fifty years it would be the rival of Centauri or even Earth. I’ll be well and truly dead by then.
But it was the stars around the orange planet that caught Jason’s attention. He stopped and put a hand on the viewport as if trying to touch them. Not a day went by when he thought about his former life in the Commonwealth Defense Force. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Hey, you! Keep moving!”
A pair of Odyssey Station’s local constabulary stood behind him. Jason put his hands up in surrender and continued on, zigzagging all the way through the promenade until he reached his apartment.
He climbed the stairs and opened the door with his thumbprint. Entering his home, he decided against activating the main lighting. Mainly because he didn’t want to see the mess he’d left, but also because his eyes were in no state to take it.
His head spun furiously from the alcohol and throbbed incessantly from the punch. Falling to the floor in his bathroom, he wrapped his hands around the toilet and deposited most of what he’d drunk at The Bended Elbow. Plus some of what he assumed was his dinner or lunch. He couldn’t quite remember.
Why the hell do I do this to myself?
Jason gently heaved himself up with the towel rail and stumbled over to the washbasin. He flicked the light on the lowest setting and looked into the mirror. His bearded and very bruised face stared back at him.
With a push of the mirror, he opened the medicine cabinet and pried out two aspirins from the near-empty container. He swallowed them and washed them down with a glass of water. He closed the medicine cabinet, and spotted a red flashing light in the reflection of the mirror. A message? For me?
He made his way into the living area, almost tripping over… something. “Open message,” he instructed his computer, taking a seat on the sofa. The display activated, washing the living area in color.
“Ortega?” he muttered in shock.
Sure enough, there in an office somewhere, sat his old colleague from the UECS Raptor, David Ortega. “Hello, Jason. It’s been some time. I hope this message finds you well.”
Jason chuckled. Yep, life’s great.
“I have information that will interest you. I’m stationed at Outpost Watchtower. It’s a facility based in the Delta-Hera System, near Frontier’s Reach.”
Jason knew of it but had never visited. Not that he’d wanted to. It was nothing but a star system of lifeless rocks on the edge of nowhere.
“As well as being a port for ships out here in deep space, one of our missions is to send out probes into the Reach and perform general scans,” Ortega told him. “A few days ago one of those probes found something. Particles.” He paused before continuing. “Iota particles.”
Jason let the words sink in. It took him back to his final days aboard the Raptor and that fateful moment when he’d lost his best friend.
“The readings were identical to the ones we found in Nebula TPA-338 after the destruction of Nash’s pod.”
Jason wanted to vomit again remembering the vivid memory.
“We’ve sent this information to HQ. We asked if they would spare a ship to investigate, but they’ve decided it wasn’t worth the equipment or manpower. Same old story. We’re still feeling the brunt of rebuilding the fleet since the war. Or so the excuse goes.” Ortega leaned forward in his seat. “I’m sending you the coordinates where the Iota particles were found and all other pertinent information I can give you. Do with it as you wish.”
A little notification in the corner of the monitor advised Jason that a data packet had downloaded into his computer.
“I know this will be like opening an old wound, but maybe there’s closure to be had. For you. For all of us.” He gave Jason a casual salute. “Good luck.”
Ortega’s face disappeared from the monitor and Jason opened the data packet to study the information. As Ortega had said, the coordinates were inside Frontier’s Reach, a long way from Vesta III. It’d be costly to pay for transport, let alone finding anyone willing to take him.
“Bring up my bank balance,” he instructed the computer.
On the display, his balance appeared. He was in the black by five thousand credits. Jason was surprised he had that much, but it was nowhere near what he needed. His mind wandered to all his possessions. The bond on his apartment. Some stuff he could pawn. And that was after paying Vic’s tab. He would never find the money to get out to the Reach.
He dropped his head and pondered. A thought popped into his mind, though it wasn’t a pleasant one.
Am I that desperate?
“Log me on to the Commonwealth Shipping Network.”
The monitor displayed an access screen, and it activated with vocal recognition. Wow, it still works after all these years. He stared at the monitor, considering long and hard whether he was prepared to go the tritonium option. He sighed. “Locate Cargo Ship Argo.”
An astronomical map of the region appeared and a blip materialized in the top left-hand corner. It was the Argo, and it wasn’t too far away from the Vesta System. His memories of the Argo flashed before his eyes. He remembered the day he’d left along with all the arguments.
Jason reached down into the side of the sofa and found a small flask. He shook it. There was something inside. He pulled the cap and took a long swig. Whatever was in it, burned all the way down.
“Open a commlink to the Argo.”
God help me.
FOUR
Herald Clinic - Massachusetts, Earth
“What took you so long?”
The hollow eyes of Lewis Keene gazed up at Captain Nicolas Marquez as he entered his room. Putting on a brave face, Nicolas did his best not to stare at the thinned, gaunt body of his friend.
“Well, I took a while to find your brew.” Nicolas pulled a bottle of McKinley Oak scotch from behind his back and handed it to Keene.
He nearly jumped from his bed when he saw the bottle. “Put that away. If my wife or any of the docs see that I’ll be in serious trouble.”
Nicolas took the bottle and hid it behind the plethora of flowers and get-well-soon cards on the windowsill. He turned and took a seat at Keene’s bedside. It’d been the fifth time he’d visited his former Chief-of-the-Boat since the Vanguard came into port. Every time he felt like another part of the chief had slipped away.
“How are you feeling?”
“How do I look?” Keene questioned back.
“Well, you, uh—”
“I look like hell, don’t I?”
While his deteriorating physical condition was obvious, Nicolas couldn’t fault the chief’s mind. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
“Would you believe I feel about ten times worse?”
Three months earlier, Chief Keene had been diagnosed with the dreaded Jung’s Disease, a horrific condition that eats away at every living part of the body from the DNA upwards. There was still no cure for it. Just therapy to stave it off. Some people could beat it for a few years. Most didn’t.
When the Vanguard reached port two months earlier for its refit, Keene began his treatment. Though Nicolas didn’t want to admit it to himself, he didn’t think his friend would break any records. “Well, I hope you’re being nice to the doctors.”
“Kids, the lot of them.” Keene snorted. “It feels like a kindergarten around here.”
“I’m sure they’re having a ball caring for a crotchety old bastard like yourself.”
“Just trying to keep them on their toes.” Keene chuckled. “How much longer am I going to have you visiting me anyway? Surely the Vanguard’s due to depart soon.”
“The refit’s on schedule. It won’t be too much longer.”
“Good, you’re making the place look untidy.” Keene fluffed his pillow. “And what of my replacement?”
Nicolas straightened his back at the question. “I—”
“You haven’t evaluated any of the candidates yet, have you?”
“I haven’t had the time,” Nicolas lied.
“You know I’m not coming back. At some point you’ll need to decide who’s taking my place.”
Nicolas had served with Keene a long time. Replacing him was not something he wanted to think about, especially with his friend on his deathbed.
“Commander Perera to Captain Marquez.”
Nicolas activated his commband with a press of the device on his wrist. “Go ahead, Commander.”
“Sir, a message from HQ. You’re to report to Admiral Mueller immediately.”
Nicolas dropped his head. “Very well. Inform HQ I’m on my way.”
“Aye, sir.”
Keene whistled. “It’s not every day you get called to the principal’s office.”
“I’ll be sure to send her your love.” Nicolas stood from his chair and rolled his eyes. “Don’t drink all that scotch on your own.”
”I’ll save you a glass.”
CDF Headquarters - Miami, Earth
Nicolas’s transport pod swept low over the city of Miami giving him the opportunity to take in all the colorful views of the art-deco buildings that continued to stand the test of time. He’d always found it amusing that the Commonwealth Defense Force based their headquarters in the warm climate of Florida. Officially it was due to the historical significance regarding the early space programs. But Nicolas knew better.
The sun was out, the sky was blue, and the beaches were full of people taking a dip in the clear waters off the coast. He was envious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone for a swim.
The pilot of the pod flew over the water and toward Key Biscayne, the home of the CDF Headquarters. The vast complex appeared to rise out of the ocean, like something from an old Jules Verne tale. The pod closed and gently descended, touching down on its extended struts.
“Thank you, Ensign.” Nicolas unbuckled himself from his seat and gave a nod of appreciation to the pilot. The rear airlock opened and he stepped onto the landing pad. Waiting for him stood a man in a navy-blue admiral’s uniform with a dour expression. His eyes examined Nicolas as if he were a first-year cadet.
Nicolas straightened his back and saluted. “Captain Nicolas Marquez, reporting as ordered.”
A grin curled on the side of the admiral’s mouth, until it became a full-blown smile. “It’s good to see you, Nicolas.” They shook hands. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, sir.” Nicolas had the honor of Admiral Gerald Foster being one of his instructors at the academy. He’d been the mentor to thousands who had gone through the system over the years.
“So, working in the Fleet Operations office?” Nicolas followed the admiral toward the door. “Get sick of the academy, did we?”
“Hardly.” They walked through the entrance of the building and strolled down the elaborate corridors of HQ. “I just wanted to be promoted to admiral before you. I couldn’t let you beat me to the top.”
“Still time yet.”
“I’ll make sure to keep an eye on my back.” Foster led him around a corner and entered the command wing of the building. “How’s the Vanguard’s refit proceeding?”
It’d been a whirlwind couple of months back on Earth. While the bulk of Nicolas’s ship’s refit had been concentrated on the new Mark V FTL engine that could propel vessels at forty times the speed of light, there was still the upgrade of ancillary systems to deal with. “They installed the new computer network this morning. Everything’s proceeding as scheduled.”
“I read your FTL trials went off without a hitch.”
“There was the odd kink to iron out, but for the most part was a smooth transition from the old Mark IV.”
“Good. The admiral will be pleased to hear that.”
Nicolas stared at his old teacher with concern, remembering the different tones of his voice. “Anything I should know before going in there?”
Foster squirmed at the question, but he kept a straight face. “You’ll be informed once we’re inside.”
Nicolas eyed him suspiciously all the way to Admiral Mueller’s office. Foster opened the door, and they both walked in. At the end of the room was a large granite desk in front of an oversized window that overlooked the grounds of HQ. On the left was a sitting area with a pair of sofas in front of a small library of old leather-bound books. And on the right, a bank of several monitors with fleet readiness information scrolling down them.
From a side entrance, Admiral Janice Mueller entered. Nicolas stood at attention as she passed, sipping away at her mug of coffee. Taking little notice of him, she sat in the chair behind her desk. Nicolas had only met the admiral on a few occasions. He found her blunt. Cold. Not much of a conversationalist. And not exactly laissez-faire.
Mueller put her mug on the table, and Nicolas saluted. “Captain Marquez, commanding officer of the Vanguard, reporting as ordered, Admiral.”
She eyed him much like Foster had on the landing pad, yet this wasn’t a friendly ribbing by a mentor. He felt like he was being interrogated. Nicolas was never one to be intimidated, but Mueller had an aura about her that made him feel more than a little uncomfortable.
She pointed at the chairs in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”
Both Nicolas and Foster did so.
Mueller put her hands together and rested them on the desk. “No doubt you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned here today?”
It was atypical to be called to the top office unless it was important. And as far as Nicolas knew, the Vanguard’s next mission had already been locked in. “You could say that, Admiral.”
“You have new orders.” Mueller pressed a button on the panel in front of her. The windows behind her tinted to black, and a holographic image of a planet materialized above the trio. “What do you know about Orion V, Captain?”
