Authors: M.D. Hall
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Gorn.’ The newcomer spoke with a deep, rich voice, which possessed a languidness that grated on the young officer. It suggested someone who was used to getting his own way. To make matters worse, the man’s smile was dazzling.
In keeping with the impression Gorn had formed of him, Darl gestured to the seat next to his own. Gakar did not acknowledge the slight as Gorn sat down.
It was time for the room’s usurped occupier to speak. ‘I need you to listen to what Commander Darl has to say,’ with no idea where this was leading, Gorn simply looked at the stranger.
‘I’ve heard much about you, young man. I’m led to believe you have written some ground breaking papers concerning the augmentation of weft drive, and implementing non field-restricted teleportation…’ The young tactical officer listened while the older man continued to sing his praises, it quickly became apparent that Commander Darl had not read the papers himself. Eventually, the extolling of Gorn's virtues came to an end, and the reason for the visit was broached. ‘I’ve recently suffered the loss of two of my most senior bridge officers,’ the recollection seemed to cause a momentary flicker in the visitor’s smile. ‘I need the best in the fleet to replace them,’ he paused to take stock of the young man’s reaction.
Gorn wondered whether, like Darl, his face betrayed his thoughts, it did not. Confronted by silence, Darl’s smile dimmed even further, as he continued. ‘My enquiries lead me to the conclusion that you would be a perfect replacement for my science officer.’
Science Officer on the flagship of the fleet
…Gorn imagined how his father and brothers would react and, for the first time in his short life, arrived at a staggering realisation,
I don’t care
. Whether this was the nexus between what he truly wanted, and what he thought he wanted, was unimportant. He was happy where he was, and had no need to prove himself to anyone, not even his father. He looked at Gakar, before returning his attention to their visitor. ‘I’m flattered by your offer, sir, but I must decline.’
Darl’s brows knitted and he looked at the commander sitting across from him. ‘Did you have anything to do with this?’
The man, who until a few moments ago was planning how to manage without his tactical officer, only shrugged.
‘It’s purely my decision,’ interceded Gorn, ‘I don’t think I'm ready for such a prestigious position,’ he was hoping to rescue Darl's pride. ‘It’s too much, too soon.’
His words appeared to have the desired effect as Darl recovered his composure, even managing to reclaim a vestige of his missing smile. ‘I understand, but don’t expect me to give up so easily,’ he stood up, indicating this audience was at an end. ‘It’s some while before we leave orbit, and I’d like nothing better than for us to meet, on a less formal footing.’
The implication was clear, he would have greater success without the unwelcome attentions of his brother commander. ‘With your commander’s permission,’ he did not look at the other man for confirmation, ‘I’ll send over details of where I can be contacted.’ With a peremptory nod towards Gakar, and a somewhat strained smile in the direction of Gorn, he left.
Alone in the ready room, the commander looked at his young officer. ‘Too much, too soon?’
‘It’s the best I could come up with at short notice.’
Gakar shook his head, slowly. ‘You're making a mistake.’
Gorn was taken aback, he had thought his commander would have been pleased to retain him.
Gakar explained. ‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and by that I don’t mean a prestigious posting. Other high profile opportunities will turn up, and you’re too talented to be overlooked. What you don’t know, is that Eclipse is about to embark on a landmark mission, I don’t know the details - I was lucky to get the limited information I have - but one thing is certain, this expedition is likely to go down in history as the most important in living memory, and you have a chance to be part of it.’
Gorn had no idea what he was being told, but he was certain of one thing. Joining Eclipse would fulfil all his childhood dreams, and that was reason enough to refuse. Today, he had begun to understand there was more to his life than impressing his father, or his brothers. He was unsure where his new found self-knowledge would take him, but he was certain it was not Eclipse.
Gakar could see the boy was resolute. ‘Take a few days to consider it, go back down to Te'ath.’
‘My shore leave is over.’
‘Your friend…Genir?’ Gorn nodded. ‘He’s stationed on Eclipse isn't he? The commander did not wait for a response. ‘As he’ll be enjoying an extended shore leave, why not visit him and his family?’
Gorn was unable to come up with a viable argument against the suggestion, order of his superior and simply replied. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Within the hour, he was at the door of his friend’s home.
Ω
A week later, Meteor left orbit, with Gorn on board. No one, in Genir’s family had tried to exert any influence, which surprised him, at least as far as Genir was concerned. His friend had respected his choice, and he was grateful.
The Crinii system
Ω
Three weeks after Gorn’s meeting with Darl, Meteor was on manoeuvres, two hundred light years from Te'ath. The second officer was lying on his bunk in the impossibly cramped quarters he shared with two other junior officers, when a call came through that he was to attend the commander in his ready room; he hoped this was nothing to do with Eclipse.
He found Gakar standing before a holosphere displaying star systems Gorn did not recognise, the older man beckoned him over.
As he approached, he saw the image change, a nebula in the centre was growing larger, the colours coming into focus, eventually filling the entire sphere. ‘I never tire of looking at this image,’ the commander’s voice sounded as though it was far away. ‘I often wonder about the beings that will come to inhabit these young star systems, billions of years from now, will they be like us, and will we still be here?’
Gorn knew these were rhetorical questions, and he was not being invited to respond,
surely
, he thought,
this can't be the reason I've been summoned
.
As Gakar turned from the image the holosphere vanished. ‘Running a ship, I can manage,’ he sighed. ‘Flights of imagination well, we can all manage that,’ he said with more of a grimace than a smile. ‘There are some things I find difficult. During time of war commanders are expected, if the need arises, to inform next of kin of the loss of a crew member, it’s in the nature of what we do, and every person on board accepts the risk of death in action…I’m sorry, this isn't coming out right,’ he went back to his chair and sat down. ‘Please take a seat Gorn.’ It sounded more like a plea than a request.
From his rambling talk, and the strain showing on his face, the young officer knew something was wrong, and whatever it was, it had something to do with him. He looked at the chair that, so recently, accommodated the man who commanded the flagship of the Fleet, and shook his head. ‘I prefer to stand, sir.’
‘I insist,’ the plea had become an order, and Gorn obeyed.
‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, but I've been tasked with breaking some terrible news to you, something has happened,’ once again the man paused.
‘Is it something to do with my family, sir?’ Immediately, the faces of his brothers flooded his mind. They were both on patrol, he began to steel himself.
Gakar nodded. ‘It’s your mother she is…dead.’
All thoughts fled Gorn’s mind. It was as though he was looking out across a limitless void. Black specks appeared in front of his eyes, only a few to begin with, then they increased exponentially, until he felt his head swim and his body tilt forwards, slowly tipping him into that vast abyss. From a long way off he felt hands on his arms, drawing him back from the emptiness.
As his head slowly cleared, he was aware of the voice of Gakar coming closer, while at the same time, feeling started returning to his limbs. He was sitting in the proffered chair with his head between his knees. Within moments the weakness had passed, but a loud echo of the emptiness remained.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all he could bring himself to say, as he raised his head.
Gakar remained silent.
Some minutes elapsed, before Gorn could bring himself to ask the question that needed to be asked. ‘How did it happen, how did she die?’
‘I wish I could tell you, there weren’t any details in the message.’
Gakar walked over to a dispenser in the wall next to his desk, and returned with a beaker of water. ‘Drink this.’
The young man did not drink, he just looked into the water moving sluggishly within its container, and felt at one with it. Other than the knowledge that his commander was sitting in the chair next to him, he registered little else.
Keenly aware his young tactical officer had yet to fully reconnect to the world around him, Gakar spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘I've cut short the manoeuvres,’ Gorn raised his head to protest, but was met with a shake of the head. ‘We only had three days to go, and the decision has been made. We've already made course corrections, and will be in orbit above Te'ath in four days.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You have nothing to thank me for. I've taken the liberty of moving your cabin mates to other quarters. You can use the ship’s facilities to make arrangements, and you have my promise, your communications won't be monitored,’ the concession being made was immense, as Gorn, even in his current state, appreciated
Every Te'an carried a cortical implant enabling receipt of transmitted messages, usually restricted to emergencies of a service nature. The implant was linked to the auditory system, and the recipient would be alerted to an incoming message, which could be heard, stored, or ignored. For all practical purposes, messages could not be sent this way, only received. It was possible to send a return message through the omnipresent consoles, but conversation would be too stilted and delayed to have any practical application. For this reason most messages were relayed through official channels.
Everyone knew that, whether the messages were listened to, or not, all official channels were monitored by the ubiquitous Agency. Gakar had just told him he would take steps to ensure the Agency was prevented from listening in on any messages Gorn might send, or receive. He was relieved, as both men knew that the Agency might have a special interest in any messages concerning this, particular death.
On Te’ath, the state of medical care was such that for more than fifteen hundred years no Te’an had died from disease. In the absence of an accident, they lived a full life. It was exceedingly rare for anyone to die as a result of murder, or suicide. Clearly, old age did not apply to his mother. That left only three possibilities, two of which would peak the interest of the Agency, and neither of them were accident.
One reason for Gakar’s offer of anonymity would be his genuine concern for the welfare of his fellow officer, the other would be the age-old hostility between the military and its covert cousin. A naval commander would seize upon any opportunity to inconvenience the service’s secretive counterpart, provided no Te’an lives were put at risk.
Gorn thanked his commander, took his leave and soon found himself alone in his quarters, still cramped when occupied by only one person. Once again he was lying on his bunk, only this time he closed his eyes, trying to understand what had happened. There was no reason to doubt what Gakar had said, but it made no sense. An accident would be unpredictable, and so he applied his mind to the two darker possibilities. He raced through his last shore leave, searching for a reason why anyone would want to harm his mother. During that visit, the coldness of his father towards her was more pronounced than usual. He had never known Bakir show affection towards his wife, in fact the only time he ever displayed affection was when one, or both of his older sons visited. But his father was not a violent man. Gorn was certain, responsibility had to lie elsewhere and with his brothers on active service, they were beyond suspicion.
Who else did she know?
he asked himself.
It quickly dawned on him that throughout his life, he had been so self-absorbed, he had no knowledge of his mother: how she thought; what interested her; who she knew, outside of family and a close circle of friends. Now was when the self-recriminations began, and they would not end when his ship arrived at its destination, or for some time afterwards.
For as long as he could remember, the focus of everything he had done was targeted to make his father proud. His achievements at school and the Academy demonstrated abilities that even dwarfed his tutors. His adventures in the cuboid had total strangers seeking him out to offer their congratulations. Yet his father remained unmoved, while his brothers, never particularly close, became strangers. By the time he entered the service there was only one person in his family who truly cared for him, but he had treated her with almost as much indifference as he had been shown. Now, it was too late to put matters right, and he was effectively trapped in his cabin, alone with his thoughts for the next four days,
I need to do something
. Sitting up on his bunk he decided to send the messages his commander had cleared. The first was to Genir,
I hope he already knows
, he thought, remembering his own reaction; he did not want to cause his friend any pain.
Next in line, his father and brothers but, notwithstanding the precautions taken by Gakar, he felt uneasy asking questions of his brothers,
what if their superiors don’t share Gakar’s views on privacy?
he thought. It was safer to send a simple confirmation that he had received the news, and would soon be back on Te'ath. Their father could fill in the gaps when they saw him. He wondered how far away his brothers were, and wished he could speak to them.
Within an hour, he felt the tingle behind his right ear that presaged his implant receiving an incoming message. A synthetic voice, inside his head, identified the caller as Genir.
Do you want to listen to the message?
it enquired. He had no sooner formed the thought,
yes,
than he heard the familiar voice of his friend. ‘We’ll be there, waiting for you when you land. Remember, you're not alone.’ Despite how he was feeling or perhaps, because of how he was feeling, he could not help but smile at his friend’s reassurance.