“Over here, Rust Scrubber!” Eve’s all-too-familiar nickname rang in Jack’s ears, pulling his attention to a table in the far corner of the mess hall, where she and Louise were seated. On the table were three plain white aluminum cans with the word "beer" scrawled on them in marker. Jack made his way through the crowded mess hall, carefully avoiding any collisions with the assault corps guys who were even more rowdy than usual.
Grabbing a paper cup, Jack dropped into a chair and opened his unimaginatively labeled can. He took a sip, bracing for the worst, but was pleasantly surprised—it tasted like beer. Not great beer, but beer nonetheless. It was a far cry from the artisanal brews back on Magellan, but it would have to do.
“So, how was work?” Louise asked cheerfully.
“Jack made a friend,” Eve replied before he could even open his mouth.
“Actually, he was more interested in you,” Jack shot back, instantly regretting his words.
Eve and Louise exchanged a knowing glance as Eve took a healthy sip of her beer.
“What exactly was he interested in?” Eve inquired, though it was clear she already knew.
“Well, he heard some… rumors about you,” Jack answered hesitantly as the two women rolled their eyes in unison.
Louise leaned in, her tone mocking as she began to probe, “What was it? She’s a Badlands mobster’s favorite daughter who ran away in secret? The black sheep of an old money family? Secret heiress to the throne of Avalon?”
Eve gently placed a hand on Louise’s arm, calming her down. “He wanted to know if I was rich, didn’t he?”
Jack nodded, adding, “I didn’t tell him anything. Well, I didn’t know what to tell him, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have.”
“It’s alright,” Eve replied calmly. “It was the same on my first tour. Some busybody officer looks into my file, doesn’t understand what he’s seeing, and starts asking around. Suddenly, I’m the talk of the ship.” She took another sip and turned her gaze to Jack. “You want to know the story, then, I suppose?”
Jack didn’t know how to respond, so he resorted to slowly sipping from his cup, hoping the situation would resolve itself.
“It’s not that interesting, really,” she continued. “Back when I was 16, I was on holiday with my family, traveling to Gaia. There was an incident with the shuttle. My mother, father, and sister all died. I survived and got a healthy settlement for my troubles.” She tried to maintain a brave face, but Jack could see her eyes beginning to water. “I got much less than a billion, for the record. So, being young, dumb, traumatized, and very rich, I made some, let’s say, interesting career choices before I joined the fleet. Choices that don’t really make sense to someone who doesn’t know the full story. Which brings us to Mr. Windek and his rumors. There you go, now you know. You can tell him as well, if you want.” Her voice carried a hint of passive-aggressiveness, though Jack could tell it wasn’t necessarily directed at him.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Jack stammered, trying to comfort her, albeit awkwardly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Eve said, resuming her usual bravado. “There’s nothing to say, really. It’s in the past, it happened, I got over it. Eventually.”
“There’s something I have to know, though,” Jack raised his voice, somewhat timidly, after a pause. “What exactly is in your file that gets everyone so riled up? I know you served on a Zargon ship, but it can’t be just that, right?”
“Oh, it’s the planet I bought!” Eve answered with a laugh.
“You own a planet?” Jack asked, incredulous.
“It’s more of a moon, really,” Louise interjected.
“It’s a big, useless rock,” Eve continued, “Or at least it used to be, before they found some bones on it. Human bones, more specifically. Millions of years old.”
“You own Burbidge 772?” Jack was unsure whether they were pulling his leg. Eve maintained her composure, but Louise looked like she was about to burst into laughter.
“Well, I just call it Eve’s Rock. Or Caveman Planet,” Eve replied, dead serious.
Jack still wasn’t sure what to believe, but he decided to let it go. As they drank their beers and laughed, making small talk and gossiping about their roommates, he found himself even more fascinated by Eve. He’d gotten his answer, or at least as much as he was going to get for the time being, yet it only raised more questions. Was she truly the carefree, gregarious adventurer she presented herself as, or was that merely a mask she put on for everyone else—or perhaps even for herself? He also wondered if it wasn’t his own insecurity that was really bothering him.
He had lost his father a couple of years before, and it had nearly ruined his life. He became depressed, dropped out of school, and had to sell his family’s farm. Jack had always thought he had a pretty good excuse for how his life had turned out so far, but wasn’t she living proof that he didn’t? Someone who had gone through something unimaginably worse and had come out of it stronger. As he sat and pondered, Louise brought the second round of beers, but just as they were about to open them, a loud voice blared over the ship’s comms:
“In 30 minutes, we will arrive at Gateway Station. All off-duty and unoccupied personnel may request a shore pass from the appropriate officer. Please note that the ship will leave in 6 hours, with or without you. Any personnel not on board at departure will be potentially liable for desertion. Please do not rush the airlock.”
“Blimey!” Eve interjected loudly, breaking the silence as Jack and Louise both stared at her, puzzled.
“Don’t you see?” she continued, her voice brimming with excitement. “We’ve supposedly made it from Daedalus to Gateway in two jumps. On a ship with a Type B jump drive. That’s a three-jump trip, minimum. So either we’ve made an unannounced jump at some point—dangerous, illegal—or they’ve pushed the jump drive far past its recommended operating range. Also dangerous and illegal. Now, why do you think they’d do that?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Jack opened his mouth to venture a guess, but before he could say anything, Eve pressed on:
“They think the traitor’s on board, and in communication with the Kharlath fleet. They did this to make sure he couldn’t report our whereabouts to them accurately. And if they’ve done something this reckless, they must be pretty damn sure. Someone aboard the Bismarck is an enemy spy!” Eve tried to maintain a grave tone, but her excitement was unmistakable.
“I believe that should actually be concerning, Evelyn,” Louise replied bluntly, pretending to scold her.
“Well, it is. But it’s pretty clever how I figured it out, isn’t it?” Eve shot back, no longer hiding her glee.
“Where would we get those shore passes?” Jack interjected, steering the conversation back to something more practical.
“Bubsy can get them for us,” Eve answered matter-of-factly.
“And let’s assume I don’t know who Bubsy is…” Jack hinted, waiting for clarification.
“That’s Lieutenant Ballinger to you, recruit!” Eve teased, before continuing, “He’s a man who owes approximately infinite favors to Louise. He’s also the guy you need to thank for these beer tickets.”
“Can I ask what exactly she did to earn those favors?” Jack asked, fully expecting a non-answer.
“She safely delivered his child, in the middle of a crash landing,” Eve replied without missing a beat.
Jack glanced at Louise, searching for a tell, but she remained stone-faced. Either this story was true, or her poker face had dramatically improved over the past couple of hours.
“It’s done!” Eve exclaimed, pointing to her wristpad. “Three shore passes. I say we finish our beers in the meantime and let the rabble fight over the airlock.”
As they methodically emptied their cups, the room slowly cleared until they were all but alone. Louise put her cup down in a deliberate gesture, eyeing the door. The trio eventually got up from their table and made their way to the airlock. With the ship now almost empty, it seemed surprisingly spacious, though still Spartan and somewhat cobbled together. They made their way onto the gigantic main docking bay of the Gateway station, breathing in the relatively fresh air.
Right outside the ship, a group of their fellow recruits was clumsily trying to navigate two large shipping containers into the Bismarck’s cargo bay—a procedure much better suited to the 0G environment the ship was originally designed for.
“Have you ever been to the Relic Bar, Jack?” Eve asked excitedly.
Jack shook his head; he hadn’t.
“It’s this great hole-in-the-wall, built into the old Gateway structure. They’ve got those really fancy kinds of overpriced cocktails!” She continued, her excitement reaching its peak.
“Should we really be getting drunk right now?” Louise tried to be the voice of reason.
“Don’t be a buzzkill, Lou! We’re not getting drunk; we’re just sampling the local culture, right, Jack?”
Always susceptible to peer pressure, Jack quickly confirmed.
With the destination selected on their wristpads, the three quickly began making their way through the labyrinthine complex. On his first visit, Jack hadn’t really gotten a chance to properly appreciate the station. Compared to Frontier on the other side of the wormhole, most of the original alien structure was intact, though in many places, it had been covered up in the standard Commonwealth design style. In the places where the original design was preserved, you could almost feel the weight of millennia of history upon the structure’s walls. The golden alloy it was made of was dull and matte and felt like sandpaper to the touch, though it was otherwise completely unblemished. For something this old, which had seen almost continuous use, it was in remarkably good shape. The architectural style was elaborate, full of little frills and details, though they were all abstract geometric shapes or patterns, betraying little about the station’s original creators. Eventually, they arrived at the Relic Bar, a building deep in the old structure, almost untouched, save for the furniture. The bar was almost empty, though Jack recognized a few familiar faces from the Bismarck.
No sooner than they sat down, their wristpads suddenly began buzzing, as did those of a few other patrons-they were being called back to the ship.
“The 6 hour figure was another ruse!” Eve remarked, once again brimming with excitement “Something big must be going on if they’re going to this much trouble!”
They quickly made their way back to the Bismarck, passing many other disoriented shipmates on their way. The fake timetable might have been a clever ruse to confuse the traitor, but it had also clearly done a number on the rest of the crew. Jack wondered how many were going to accidentally end up being labeled deserters. As soon as they entered the docking bay, they were greeted with a sight worthy of pandemonium. A gigantic mass of panicking recruits, some drunk, others merely severely out of their element, was pushing against the comparatively tiny airlock door, while a bemused gaggle of officers and veteran crew members were watching them from the side. When the panic had died down, the trio decided to try their luck through the airlock, and head down to the cargo bay, where the captain was supposed to give a speech.
As soon as most of the crew had gathered in the cargo bay, Captain Stirling made his way through the crowd, walking toward one of the two shipping containers. With a dramatic gesture, he tore open the container’s door, and a gigantic metallic figure stepped out, with a deafening racket. It was, unmistakably, a Templar-a one man killing machine, enhanced with cyber-implants, and encased in an impenetrable robotic armor. Though technically part of a Neo-Catholic monastic order, much like their medieval namesake, in reality, Templars served as enforcers and bodyguards for the highest bidder, often fighting alongside PMCs in corporate wars, or protecting high value targets from pirates or terrorists. They seldom worked alongside the Commonwealth government, so Eve was right-something big was happening.
Captain Stirling waited patiently for the noise to die down, before addressing the crowd:
“My friends, we are about to go to war.” Captain Stirling paused for a moment, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “In a matter of hours, perhaps even less, Kharlath warships are going to descend on Gateway Station with the intent of destroying it, cutting us off from the main Commonwealth forces in Sector Alpha. I am not going to sugarcoat this: if they succeed, this war is as good as lost. The Badlands, the Zargon Empire, the Platharian Union—all of them will be isolated from each other, and, in turn, from us. I am telling you this because I need you to understand what is at stake. Our lives are the least valuable things on the table. We are expendable. The Bismarck is expendable. Gateway Station is not. We are the last line of defense. Bismarck. Yi. Roddam. Allemand. Four ships, undermanned, outgunned, and unprepared. Our odds are slim, but it isn’t hopeless. And we have a goddamn Templar on our side!”
He pointed toward the ironclad colossus, who raised his fists triumphantly with a loud screech, as the crew cheered.
Stirling cut through the crowd like a knife as he gave the order for the ship to depart. He soon disappeared down a corridor, letting the crowd dissipate chaotically on its own. Jack stood almost paralyzed in the middle of the room. He was aware of the risk on a conscious level, but the reality of it had just hit him for the first time: there was a very high chance that he was about to die in the next few hours. Louise gently touched his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.
“Are you alright, Jack?” she asked in a gentle, soothing tone.
“I’ve been better,” he replied dryly. “I just thought we’d have more time before we’d have to consider the possibility that we’re about to die a horrible death.”
“We’re always about to die a horrible death, mate,” Eve quipped. “People have heart attacks on the toilet. Asphyxiate in their sleep. Choke on a peanut. Remember the Aurora? Hit by a stray fragment the size of a golf ball at just the right spot to cause a chain reaction and blow up. One in a trillion odds, and they all died. Really, when you think about it, we’re the lucky ones, ‘cause we’re expecting to die. At least it won’t be some freak accident taking us by surprise.”
He wasn’t sure why, but Eve’s words felt oddly reassuring. At least if he died, it wouldn’t be in vain. He would be protecting the galaxy. And chances are, it would be fast and painless. There were certainly worse ways to go.
Suddenly, all three of their wristpads buzzed at once. Their presence was requested on the bridge.
End Of Part 1