Over the next few days, Jack did his best to push the incident with the Othiri out of his mind, focusing instead on adjusting to his new living situation. He was stuck aboard the Mothership for the time being and had since learned that they were near Outpost 2231, an old Othiri Imperial garrison deep within what was now Platharian territory. Jack, along with most of the lower-ranked personnel still aboard, found himself living in a communal barracks—a makeshift collection of tents and sleeping bags set up in one of the ship's larger, emptier rooms. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was manageable. At least Major Barrett had the foresight to have some prefab communal bathrooms quickly installed.
Jack had since learned the fate of some of his shipmates and friends. Mr. Windek was alive, though gravely wounded, as was Lieutenant Ballinger, technically, albeit in a coma with very little chance of waking up. Corporal Āwhina had been luckier—she’d made a full recovery. As for those left behind on the Bismarck, they were missing in action, presumed dead.
Aside from the obvious—scientists being sent to examine the vessel, and the remaining Kharlath finally surrendering—Jack knew very little about what was actually going on around him. He was aware there was some sort of disagreement about what to do with the Mothership, but he didn’t know the details. He knew that Major Barrett was at odds with his superiors, but he was still in charge. Beyond that, Jack had no clue what was about to happen or what his next assignment might be. He spent his days doing menial tasks, unsure of what the future held.
“Jack. Come to my quarters. We need to talk.”
He had read Eve's message a dozen times, dreading the conversation it would inevitably lead to. As much as he wanted to avoid thinking about what the Othiri had told him, he knew he couldn’t escape it. That morning, one of the surviving crewmen from the Yi had attempted to shoot Major Barrett, undoubtedly having been told the same thing. This was bigger than them now, and could no longer be ignored.
Jack pulled on his boots, leaving behind the modest privacy of his tent, and made his way through the makeshift shantytown that had sprung up in the massive, open room he had come to call home. Eve had been lucky—she'd been promoted to Senior Specialist due to her role in the mission’s success and was assigned private quarters as a result. As underwhelming as the tiny prefab bedroom might've been, Jack couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, particularly over the fact that she had her very own sink—a luxury when he had to wait 15 minutes just to wash his face and hands.
He knocked on her door and braced himself for what was to come. When she opened it, she wordlessly nodded for him to follow her in.
“Excuse the mess,” she quipped as Jack entered the room, which was completely empty save for a neatly folded uniform on the bed and a pair of boots by the door.
“So, you talked to Agent Okoro?” Jack asked, visibly uncomfortable.
Eve nodded. “I hope you’re not upset about it, Jack. I just wanted to have everything above board before we did anything rash.”
“No, not at all. He was the first person I went to as well,” Jack replied, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket.
“So… we just ignore what they told us?” Eve asked after a moment.
“I don’t see what else there is to do. It’s not like we can arrest him, can we?”
“Can we?” Eve echoed, her eyes narrowing. “If they’re telling the truth, we have a traitor in charge of the single most important asset in this war. Just sitting on this information would be treasonous.”
“But it makes no sense! Why would he even sabotage us in the first place? What could the Kharlath offer him? And more importantly, if he was working for them, why the hell would he deliver their greatest weapon to the Commonwealth?"
"What if this is exactly what they wanted him to do?” Eve suddenly jumped up, her eyes gleaming with realization. “What if they know more about how this ship works than Dr. Liu thought, and it’s all been some sort of con to get it into Earth’s proximity, with the Commonwealth completely unprepared to deal with it?”
Before Jack could respond to her theory, his wristpad buzzed—it was Mr. Okoro, requesting a meeting. As he turned to leave, Eve stopped him, her voice tinged with distress.
“Jack, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
He turned back, watching as she tried to gather her thoughts. He’d never seen her this vulnerable before. Her eyes were wet, her face contorted in a way that betrayed her struggle to hold back tears. After a few seconds, she began speaking softly:
“Back during the fight, when you jumped on top of me, when you took that hit for me—I thought you’d died.”
“It was nothing, really,” Jack replied, trying to comfort her. “If I had died, I wouldn’t have been that upset about it.” He stammered, searching for something appropriate to say.
“You’re an idiot!” Eve suddenly erupted, her tears finally spilling over. “Why would you think I’d want that—want you dying for me? You barely even know me—you had no right!”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jack reached out to her, but she pushed him back. After a few moments of sobbing, she began to pull herself together, and apologized.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It’s just... Anil is gone, Louise is gone, Alfred is God knows where—you’re all I have left. I know it’s pathetic, but if you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
“It’s alright, Eve,” Jack responded, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve been through a lot. It’s natural to freak out—hell, I don’t even know why I’m not. It’s natural to be sad.”
“That’s just it, though. I’m not sad. I’m never sad—I don’t even think I know how to be sad anymore.” Eve looked deeply into his eyes, as if silently pleading for help. “All I want is to feel sad.”
She collapsed into his arms, her body limp, and Jack held her tight in silence for a few seconds. He had no answers for her—nothing to offer but his quiet comfort. He summarily apologized as he turned to leave. He wanted to spend more time with Eve, to make sure she was okay, but his duty called. He needed to find Mr. Okoro and finally confront the role he had to play in this brewing conspiracy.
He quickly made his way to the location Agent Okoro had indicated, finding the normally composed agent looking uncharacteristically distressed.
“We have a serious problem,” Okoro began. “The man who tried to shoot the Major—he refuses to speak to anyone except you. Our interrogators haven’t gotten anything out of him so far, but people are starting to become suspicious. I’ve arranged for you to talk to him. You need to convince him that you’re on his side, that he needs to give you a few hours and then come clean with what happened.”
Jack reeled back in surprise. “We’re going to confront the Major, then?”
“I’m afraid this event has forced our hand. If he cracks—if he somehow implicates you before we’ve had a chance to talk to Barrett—it’s going to be bad. I’m not even sure I can protect you.”
“What do I even say to him?” Jack began to panic. “I have no clue how to deal with this!”
“Trust me, you do,” Mr. Okoro assured him. “I’ve seen how you talk to people, how you get them to listen to you. You have a real knack for this. You’re going to get in there, and this guy is going to do whatever you tell him to. I have no doubt about it.”
Pale and trembling, Jack made an effort to collect himself as they passed through the checkpoints leading to the holding area. Mr. Okoro pointed him toward an inconspicuous room and signaled the nearby guards to leave.
“The cameras have been turned off,” the agent said, flashing a sly smile as he handed Jack a small dart gun. “You’ll be alone with him. Take this, just in case. Two or three of these should knock him out pretty much instantly.”
Gathering his courage, Jack opened the door and walked into the room, coming face-to-face with an unhinged, desperate-looking man slouched in a chair, barely holding himself upright. The man looked up at Jack with a manic intensity in his eyes but kept silent.
“Hi there. I’m Jack Nereus. I’ve heard you’ve been asking for me.” Jack sat down at the table, trying his best to appear confident and unbothered.
The man suddenly sprang to his feet and pounded on the table, startling Jack.
“Thank God! Finally! You have to listen to me—the Major, he’s a traitor! He’s the one who sold us out, he—”
“I know. The Othiri told you.” Jack gestured for him to sit back down as he subtly reached for the weapon inside his jacket, barely managing to keep his composure.
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“They told me you’re the only one I could trust. I don’t know—I did what I thought was right. You have to do something!”
“What’s your name, crewman?” Jack asked casually, seemingly unbothered.
“Roger. Roger Dirks. Former munitions specialist, over on the Yi.”
“I’m going to need you to do me a favor, Roger. This whole business with Major Barrett—it’s being handled. I can’t tell you more—this is all high-level stuff—but rest assured, the situation is under control. I’m sorry you’ve been put into this position. But you’ll need to hold on for a few more hours while I deal with it. These men who’ve been interrogating you, they work for him. You understand what’s at stake if they find out anything, right?”
Crewman Dirks nodded, trying to resist the urge to get back up.
“Good. After I’ve had time to deal with the situation, you’ll call them back in, and you’ll tell them exactly what the Othiri told you, and why you did what you did. If it all works out, they’ll let you go. You haven’t done anything wrong. But it’s absolutely crucial that Major Barrett doesn’t find out about it before then. Do you understand me?”
“How will I know when it’s time to talk? How will I know when you’ve dealt with him?” The prisoner stood up again, frantically pacing the room.
“Trust me, you’ll know.” Jack smiled as he got up to leave. As soon as the door closed behind him, his expression shifted. He leaned against the wall, trying not to collapse. Inside, he had been convincing enough—calm, persuasive, seemingly in control. But it had taken everything out of him to sell that impression.
“How did it go?” Mr. Okoro asked anxiously.
“Fine, I think. The guy’s not doing so well, but I believe I got through to him,” Jack replied, still unsure.
Relieved, Mr. Okoro gestured for Jack to follow him. “Now for the hard part. We need to get our answers.”
“Agent Okoro?” Jack hesitated, afraid to broach the subject. “I promised him that once this is all over, we’d let him go. Do you think I’ll be able to honor that promise?”
“No,” Mr. Okoro replied bluntly. “Mitigating circumstances aside, he tried to shoot his commanding officer in the face. We can’t just let him go.”
“It’s not fair,” Jack protested. “I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He was just put in an impossible position and didn’t know how to react. It could have easily been me.”
“But it wasn’t you. You came to me; you were smart about it. Our world isn’t kind to people who don’t think things through, no matter their intentions.”
“So, how are we going to approach this?” Jack asked after a moment.
“I’ve been mulling it over all morning, considering every possible angle. None of this makes sense. They didn’t read his mind without his consent—they couldn’t; all Intelligence operatives are trained against that. They had no conceivable reason to lie, but at the same time, if they’re telling the truth, none of the Major’s actions make any sense. There’s no angle we can approach this from. We really only have one option left: put all our cards on the table and see how he reacts.”
As they approached a heavily guarded door, Mr. Okoro stopped and turned to Jack. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Jack replied sarcastically.
They walked into Major Barrett’s office, where Jack was surprised to see the Major casually sitting in his chair, sipping from a glass of what looked like whiskey as he went over some paperwork—not the attitude he’d expected from a man who’d almost been shot mere hours before. Barrett gestured for them to take a seat as they approached, barely lifting his eyes from his files.
“Yes?” the Major finally acknowledged them after a moment.
Reluctantly, Jack began recounting what the Othiri had told him, why Crewman Dirks had attempted to shoot the Major, and everything that had led up to the events of that morning. Mr. Okoro occasionally chimed in to provide additional details. The Major sat calmly, listening to the story without showing a hint of emotion. If Jack didn’t know better, he could have sworn that none of what he was saying was news to the Major. Finally, as Jack finished, Barrett took a sip of his drink before succumbing to an unhinged, animalistic fit of laughter.
“Those goddamn bastards!” he groaned, struggling to contain his laughter. “There’s no people in this entire universe more reliably treacherous than the Othiri.” He turned to Agent Okoro, slightly calmer. “What I don’t understand is how the hell you haven’t figured this whole thing out yet. Nereus, I get it—not the sharpest tool in the shed. But you? Come on, want a hint?”
“I don’t think this is a laughing matter, Major,” the agent rebuffed him. “These are very serious accusations leveled against you, from a very credible source. You need to tell us if there’s any truth to them.”
“It’s all true, I’m afraid. Guilty as charged!” The Major once again began laughing hysterically. “And you want to know something even funnier? The Othiri—they were in on it the entire time!”
Jack was stunned, struggling to find words. The Major seemed to be joking, yet there was something unsettlingly genuine in his tone. Had he completely lost his mind, or was this some kind of twisted mind game?
“Are you saying that you were the spy? You were feeding the Kharlath information?” Mr. Okoro pressed him further, his voice taut with tension.
“No, you absolute idiot! You were!” The Major shot back, once again struggling to contain his laughter. “All your observations, the meticulous reports—everything they knew about the Interstellar Fleet, our forces, our readiness, they got from you. I was merely the intermediary.”
Mr. Okoro’s face flushed red with anger, his entire body tensing as if ready to explode. For a moment, Jack thought the agent might leap across the table and beat the Major to death. But just as quickly as his temper flared, Mr. Okoro reined it in, continuing the interrogation in his calm, measured tone:
“What you’re admitting to—it's treason, you understand this, right?” He revealed his wristpad, showing the Major that he’d been recording the entire conversation. “I’m going to have to relieve you of your command and place you under arrest until someone comes to sort this mess out.”
“You still don’t understand, do you?” the Major responded, this time visibly angry. “I told you, the Othiri were in on it the entire time. So was the entire Intelligence Operations leadership once they found out about it. I created the perfect opportunity for us to capture the Mothership—I won us this damn war! My plan! My leadership! And now they want to scapegoat me? And they don’t even have the decency to do it themselves?” He slammed his fist into the desk, the sound reverberating through the room.
Propelled by some inner force, Jack stood up, unimpressed and resolute. “Are you saying that you got thousands of our own people killed—on purpose, and you want to be praised for it?”
“No, I got tens of thousands of our own people killed,” the Major retorted, equally unimpressed. “And I’d have killed a hell of a lot more to save billions. Do you not understand the stakes here? Can you not comprehend what the Kharlath winning this war means? We’re facing a goddamn existential threat, and you would lecture me on morals? On collateral damage? On what, honor? You want to know the truth, crewman? The only reason you’re still around to beat your chest about your lofty values is because of men like me—men who do what needs to be done, no matter the cost. So don’t you dare lecture me about anything!”
“And who gave you this kind of power? What gives you the right to make these calls?” Jack shot back, his voice growing more impassioned. “The Intelligence Operations Fleet is under Commonwealth authority—even if your entire leadership structure is complicit, what about Admiral Szymańska? What about the Prime Minister?”
“Well, that’s easy enough to answer,” Barrett replied, returning to his calm, bemused state. “The Fleet Admiral has no authority over us—entirely separate command structure. And the civilian leadership doesn’t ask questions they don’t want to know the answers to. Just face it, any way you slice it, I did nothing wrong. You’ve really only got two choices. Either you accept that fact, tell all your friends to stand down, and let this whole thing blow over, or you make enough noise that they’ll have no choice but to reassign me somewhere less public—and you get another asshole in charge who’ll do the same thing once an opportunity presents itself. What’s it going to be?”
“There’s a third option,” Jack replied, still refusing to back down. “I can just shoot you. Right here, right now. What about that, you smug bastard?” Jack wasn’t sure where the threat had come from; he had no means or intention to back it up. But he was desperate to wipe that smile off Barrett’s face, even if just for a second.
“If you were going to shoot me, you would have already done it. You don’t tell a man you’re going to kill him—you just do it. But you don’t have the stomach for that. As I said, two choices. Which one will you make?” The Major was decidedly unimpressed with Jack’s idle threat.
Lost and out of his depth, Jack looked to Mr. Okoro for guidance. But his friend simply sat there, stone-faced, watching the conversation play out. Dejected, Jack finally decided to speak: “Even if I were to simply let this go, there are others. Who knows how many the Othiri told about this, and how many others those people told in turn. It’s only a matter of time before someone tries to shoot you again. And even ignoring that, how is anyone supposed to trust you again?”
“None of you were supposed to trust me in the first place!” Barrett yelled, his eyes blazing. “Do you not understand what a spy is? Or is it that no one told you what Intelligence Operations is a euphemism for? We’re lying, treacherous, backstabbing, self-serving bastards, the lot of us. Your new mate included.” He turned to Mr. Okoro, giving him a knowing look. “You want to hear what he has to say about you and your friends?” Rifling through the papers on his desk, he pulled one out seemingly at random and began reading: “Jack Nereus. Average intelligence. Physically unimpressive. Inferiority complex—easy to manipulate. Possesses an uncanny innate charisma and natural leadership abilities—for some reason, people instinctively gravitate toward him.’ Talk about faint praise! Or how about this one.” He pulled another paper from his stack. “Evelyn Nakayama. Associate of Jack Nereus. Despite obviously superior reasoning and decision-making abilities, defers to him by default. Exceedingly intelligent and resourceful, but emotionally compromised. Self-destructive tendencies can be exploited.’ Such concern! Do we have another?” He continued his pantomime, picking another file seemingly at random: “Louise Gill. Missing in Action. Presumed deceased. Unremarkable, with one exception—Crewman Nereus is in love with her—possible angle.”
“Enough!” Mr. Okoro, red-faced and trembling with anger, leaped up from his chair. “I’m leaving. Jack, if you want to stay and let him mess with you for the rest of the day, you’re welcome to do that.”
Without a word, Jack got up from his chair and followed him outside. The Major’s manipulations had pushed him to his limit—whether those were the actual profiles Mr. Okoro had written or Barrett was simply making them up on the spot didn’t matter. Jack might have been naïve, but he wasn’t stupid. Listening to the Major was pointless.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Okoro apologized sincerely as soon as the door closed behind them.
“What for?” Jack asked, feigning surprise.
“For what I wrote in those reports. I know it’s not exactly comforting, but it’s not all you are to me. I do consider you my friend, truly.”
“Don’t worry. I know you were just doing your job. I was never under the impression that you weren’t keeping tabs on everyone, or that you never had ulterior motives. But…” Jack hesitated, wondering if he truly wanted to know the answer to the question he was about to ask.
“Yes?” Mr. Okoro encouraged him.
“Do you really think Eve is that much smarter than me?”
“Jack, we both think Eve is that much smarter than you. Ask what you actually wanted to know.”
“Louise—why did you say I was in love with her?”
“You remember, back when we were evacuating the Bismarck, you asked Nurse Giordano about her. You knew exactly what she was going to tell you, but you asked anyway. There’s only one reason you would ask that question while already knowing the answer—you’re expecting a miracle. And I don’t think you’re a very religious person, are you?”
Jack sat in silence, unable to respond. Indeed, he wasn’t a very religious person.