The night sky had always been a source of wonder for Humans ever since we were able to stand upright. Those golden sprinkles and swirls of colours all across the darkness of the night sky never ceased to leave us in awe. Our ancestors thought they were the abode of the gods. Their ancestors… well, they actually went up there.
Of course, such bizarre notions slowly faded over time, and, with the further progression of our civilisation, so did the stars. The lights of the cities and towns smothered darkness over our night sky. We still went back up there, and we made the gods' abode our own once more.
Captain Allen stared through the window of his starship's office. The Terra Orbital Station, in which his ship, the Berners-Lee, was docked in, had already found itself just above the lands of Europe and North Africa, already engulfed by the night. The shining patterns of endless lights might as well have blended in with the rest of the cosmos. It was a sight he and everybody else had seen hundreds of times. It seemed like a beauty when he was a child, but it was as common a view to the point nobody cared so much anymore.
When the early spacefarers looked back on their world, it truly put into perspective their whole existence. Whether it be the understanding we were just specks in a universe that didn't give a shit, or that everything those spacefarers knew, their friends, family, pets, homes, the constant threat of nuclear war, all encased on that fragile blue orb. Its inhabitants again returned to the stars after a millennia long hiatus.
Now, it was just something to stare at whilst his wife, Imogen, picked up her phone. It had been about twenty seconds now. Maybe she was showering or putting Benji to bed. It was already that time of the night down in Essex. Soon enough, she picked up. Her pixelated face appeared on his computer's holographic display.
“All right, bab?” She said, able to smile through the low resolution. Suddenly, the screen started stuttering. “On bo— a— w—”
“Oh bloody hell.” Allen sighed. “You're breaking up, darling.”
He just about made out a curse word on her end. Imogen picked up her phone and went into the other room. The resolution upped a bit, but the stuttering remained. “C— y— Can you h— me now?”
“Better than before. Can you hear me?”
“Yeah, bab. Wi-fi's been acting up here.”
Allen leaned on his arm, clearly annoyed. “Again?”
“Yes, ag—” The screen began stuttering again, just before somewhat stabilising. “Benji wouldn’t stop moaning earlier over his show buffering. Plus, I’ve got meetings to do, and all they’re getting is the frozen mug of me. Told you not to stay with Virgin, Alan.”
“Look, I would love to change. But they’re the only service provider available in our area.”
“Tariq next door's with BT.”
“Okay but—” He stuttered a bit. “The cancellation fee is ridiculous.”
“Cancellation fee? Alan, you're the Captain of a starship, I don't think spending a couple hundred credits to change provider'll be that much of a financial problem for us.”
“It's two hundred credits. I'm not paying that much.”
Imogen wasn’t having it. She widened her eyes and loudly said, “Oh, but you're perfectly happy with all those fancy things on your shelf, aren't you?”
She was referring to the memorabilia stashed behind Allen. Well, it was just a few trinkets and gifts. About three on both shelves behind him. He had been in this position on the Berners-Lee for eight months now. He thought about selling them online, maybe Auctionopolis, but given that there were only framed pictures, some chairs and plants in his office, some sort of decoration was basically compulsory.
“The difference is I didn't pay for these things, Imogen.”
“Just fucking cancel Virgin, bab.”
Allen's office door hissed open, through came a Chinese man, wearing the creaseless, dark-blue uniform of the British Star Charters, with four silver bars above his shirt pocket. His First Officer, Daniel Xian. He saluted. “Captain.”
“At ease.”
“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”
“No, it's fine,” Allen said.
“Is that Dan?” Imogen asked.
“Evening, Imogen.” Xian dropped his professional manner slightly and came over, popping his head in front of the screen, a bit too close to his commanding officer. “How's Benji?”
“Just out him to sleep, actually. Christ on a bike, that little shit's a nightmare to deal with.”
“I wouldn't talk about your child like that.”
Allen scoffed, “You try having a kid, Commander.”
The screen started glitching again. Xian asked, “Internet problems?”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “Virgin Media. I expect very little of them now, and I'm still disappointed.”
“It should be back up again soon,” Allen stated.
“Fourth time this week their servers've been down.”
“Thought about cancelling?” Xian said.
“Your bossman here's not too keen to pay the cancellation fee. Thinks it's 'too expensive'.”
He turned to Allen. “You're the Captain of a st—”
“I've already had this conversation, Commander,” Allen nearly exclaimed, “What did you come in for?”
Xian stood to the side, quickly posturing himself upright. “We have just been notified of a late transfer.”
“Okay, and?”
“The notification came from the board themselves, Captain. As well as… erm.”
“Go on,” he groaned.
“The Crown, Captain. Prince Robert has been transferred as a Security Officer to the ship.”
There was a pause from Allen. “Leftenant, where were you before you came in here?”
“I was making my way from the Cafeteria, Captain.”
He picked up his mobile. “Ever seen this before? Don't know where you've been these past… well, three centuries. But they've got a little thing called text messaging. Occasionally, someone might be able to use it to send an email.”
“I thought it was best to notify you in person, sir.”
“Well, why did they tell you first? Or at least get JADE to tell me?”
Xian didn’t say anything, he just shrugged.
“So,” Imogen said, “You’ve got a Royal in your employment now, and you won’t pay the cancellation f—“
“Talk about this later, darling.” Allen hung up.
----------------------------------------
This was it. She was standing at one of the lifts in the station, waiting for it to take her down to the hangar bay. Contracting with the BSC was certainly not at the top of one of Kumar’s career goals. Everybody involved in this sort of stuff repeated the excuse that they joined out of passion for the stars, what treasures laid beyond. Kumar joined just to get away from all the table cleaning or online surveys she took just to keep her lights on. She felt like this was going to be a mistake. Even after a month worth of equipment and safety training. Was she really ready for the dangers of the cosmos? The possibility that at any moment some engineer could screw up and kill off the entire crew, or some extra-terrestrial would board and mind-probe everyone, was as real as Earth’s sky was blue.
As each floor blurred by, it felt like she was being sucked down the cosmic rabbit hole with no way of pulling herself out. Eventually, the lift stopped, it wasn't her floor. A couple others left, and a few more joined. One of the latter seemed to be part of the BSC. It was a pale man, around her age. The two bars on his blue uniform indicated he was a Leftenant. Kumar felt as if she had seen his face before, but didn't bother to think about it. A couple others stared at him in recognition, he clearly wasn’t comfortable with it but from the look on his eyes, he was likely used to it.
The man stood next to Kumar near the back of the lift. Despite the fact she wasn't official personnel, she still saluted him, though awkwardly, almost elbowing the beak of an Arvan. “First day?” He asked. His voice was posh, proper posh.
“Erm, yeah. First day,” she said.
“You’re not with the Berners-Lee, are you?”
“I am,” she stuttered, “Sorry. I am, sir.”
“Don't bother with ‘sir’ if you're a contractor. You should mainly do that with the main higher-ups, even then they don’t really care.” His tone went slightly more casual, extending his hand to her. “Louis, by the way. Robert Louis.”
She shook his hand. “Amelia Kumar. But most people just call me Amy.”
“Well, Amy, nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?” Her awkward manner didn't help her case.
“It's normal,” Louis said, “Don't worry about it. A lot of the time, you'll just be sitting around. Where are you working?”
“Science.”
“Yeah, you appear the sort.” The lift stopped, a few left but it wasn’t their stop. Louis then asked, “What bit of science then? Chemistry?”
“Err, archeology actually.”
“Archeology,” he repeated to himself. “So what, like Indiana Jones then?”
“Eh, bit more boring than that. What are you doing?”
“Security.” Kumar looked him up and down. He had a bit of a build, seemed like the sort of bloke who could somewhat deal with whatever was lurking out in space. “My family is quite big on the males joining the army, or the navy, whatever. But I joined just to get my parents off my back.”
Kumar scoffed. “Opposite for me. My mom was telling me I would end up like my brother if I took this. I'm starting to think she'll be right.”
“What happened to your brother?”
She felt a bit uncomfortable, but said anyway, “I have no idea. He went to a party in London with some friends a few years ago, got involved with the chaos, never seen again. The police couldn't find anything and they shut the case a month later.”
There was some silence. At the next floor, the lift was empty except for the two crewmen. “Sorry to hear that,” Louis said.
“It's fine.”
“You won't end up like him. Again, you're just sitting around most of the time. Nothing will happen until we get beyond the outer systems, that will be about… a month. A month, yeah.”
Their floor finally arrived. The doors opened, and they both stepped out, dragging their suitcases along. The walls of the corridor were mostly glass, with the entire spaceport bay in sight. Vessels came and went, passengers and staff members roamed all over, and ever ten seconds or so, there was a muffled announcer echoing all around.
“Over there,” Louis pointed through the window at one of the large, pod-shaped vessels. Four decks high and nearly two hundred metres long. Two massive engines had been placed near the backside and a couple small ones had been dotted around the bottom. Upon the silver hull engraved the words 'HMSS Berners-Lee', with the union jack of the British Federation painted alongside. About fifty like these had been off exploring the cosmos, and now one more was ready to rejoin.
----------------------------------------
“Could a vampire get HIV??” Kendrick asked, lighting up a cigarette.
“Hmm?” Monso said, screwdriving the plate back onto the hull of the Berners-Lee.
“If you had HIV or some other STI, and a vampire bit you, would that vampire get infected?”
Monso finished up, and the Farahali stared above in thought, before actually realising what Kendrick asked. “Sorry, what?”
“I mean it's not like they have a good immune system.”
“They're supposed to be strong, immortal creatures of the night. I'm pretty sure they could brush off something like HIV.”
Ben, the Android, chimed in after packing up the tools, “They're allergic to garlic and wood.”
“Plus.” Kendrick clicked his fingers. “Quite susceptible to skin cancer.”
From Monso came a look that simply screamed 'what the fuck'. “Skin cancer? They burn alive!”
“Extreme skin cancer.”
“I— it's not cancer, if anything it's spontaneous combustion! They don't immediately grow and succumb to a bunch of tumours in their skin the second they come into contact with sunlight!”
There was a pause of ponder from Kendrick as he inhaled all the chemicals from his cigarette. “Very extreme skin cancer,” he concluded. “Happened to Gavin when we were on Maran II.”
“Gavin burned alive because his space suit malfunctioned!”
“Still found a bunch of tumours on him.”
“Tho— those weren't tumours. Those were the bits of charred skin falling off of him!”
“Burned tumours.”
Ben spoke again, “So, if you need to defend yourself from a vampire, you just need to make sure you're infected with an STI?”
“Just don't go to the doctor, use it as a repellent. Vampires can smell blood apparently.”
“Oh really?” Monso said, wondering why he was still feeding into their idiocy.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
“Yeah. If you're hooked on something like heroin or infected with HIV, with their heightened senses, they'll be detecting the equivalent of an unholy matrimony between bin juice and unpasteurised milk.”
“I'm going inside.”
Monso made his way, before Ben pointed out, leaning on the rail, “Newbies one o'clock. Hang on a second, one of them looks familiar.”
“You're an Android, how can something 'look familiar'?”
“I'll get serviced later, calm yourself.” He looked back down. “Well, shit.”
“Who is it?” Kendrick asked.
“It's a Windsor.”
----------------------------------------
Allen and Xian had already stepped outside at the main entrance, awaiting their arrival. Usually, they wouldn't bat much of an eye with new recruits or transfers lower than a Leftenant Commander but given the fact it was a royal, it was protocol.
There were no records of them, other than Robert, joining a state organisation like the BSC. Most of them either joined the Royal Army, Space Force, any armed organisation really that didn't go through budget cuts. Allen planned to give was a personal tour of the place, a handshake, and leave him to Rune, the head of security. That ensign, well, he'll just ask JADE.
“Why does our country still have royals anyway?” Xian questioned. “It isn't as if they do anything for us.”
“It's purely cosmetic, Commander,” Allen said. “Plus, the bank holidays are pretty worth it.”
“Bit expensive just to have bank holidays.”
“If we have money to blow on the Prime Minister's pool parties, we have money to blow on a bit of dead tradition.”
“That would explain the budget cuts.”
“That's what happens when you vote Tory, Xian.”
“I voted for the MP, Captain. Not the party.”
“It's the same thing. Honestly, I find it funny how you voted Conservative and all of a sudden moan about the monarchy.”
“Again, I voted for the MP. It was either him or the paedophile.”
Allen eyed them coming out of the lift, it seemed he had already made a friend with one of the recruits, a contractor, he could tell by the clothing and the lack of naive wonder. Allen went over to him, masked a smile, and said, “Prince Robert Louis. Captain Alan Allen. Pleasure to have you on board.”
The Prince saluted, his friend stopped halfway and shot a baffled look at him. “You’re a prince?”
“You didn't know?” Louis said.
“No! It's not like I pay attention to that sort of stuff!”
“I don't blame her. Unless you were the main heir or the queen's sibling, nobody actually cares,” Allen said. A couple personnel suddenly took their bags. “All right, tour's starting, keep your hands and feet inside the… whatever, just follow me.”
Two newbies now, not what he was expecting. It wasn't as if he was doing tour guides in London or somewhere the whole day, a lot of it was simply going to be saying 'this is that, don't go there' and so on. They were quickly introduced to Xian, before he decided to fake a phone call from his partner, after that, they began their trek through the corridors.
“Signs are on the walls if you get lost,” Allen said.
“Or maybe,” a female voice from above said, “You could ask me.”
“That's JADE, she is our AI. Make sure you're on her good side. She might sound friendly, but piss her off once, she will make your time here a living hell.”
“So, can she like… see us at all times?” The contractor asked.
“I won't blackmail you with explicit pictures if that's what you're thinking.”
“What about privacy, you know?”
“Safety measures, I'm afraid. Besides, I can't… not look.”
“We all have to deal with it,” Allen said. “She won't bother you unless you're planning to kill someone.”
He continued showing them around, passing through the decks. The first main room they went into was the engine room, to which Allen advised them to wear a rebreather. And once the doors slid open, they realised why.
Even with the masks on, the stench still managed to penetrate their nostrils. The subspace drive was built into the back, glowing a bright, multi-coloured aura within. Engulfing its surroundings was a throbbing, brown fungus, practically infecting all of the electronics. Green and red plants, somewhat appeasing to look at, had been growing, as well as slimy tendrils hanging here and there, prepared to work on whatever duty had come up.
“Oh, a Deqinril,” Louis observed.
“They are the Engineering Officer.”
“Captain,” they groaned, a gas suddenly released from their pores.
“Should I be worried?” The contractor asked shyly.
“Never seen a Deqinril before?” Louis asked glaring at her.
“I haven’t been out the UK for a while, non-Humans aren’t actually my thing.”
“I'm from Leeds,” the Deqinril said. “They usually call me Stephen, by the way.”
“Not your surname?” Louis said.
“You couldn’t pronounce it.”
“Quick question,” the contractor said. “Are you able to leave this place?”
“With support, yes, my core can be extracted. Though most of the time I’m in here. I can take over an Android and go from there but… yeah.”
“Okay, good talking, Stephen,” Allen said. “By the way, if you're ever in here, don't go near the subspace drive when it's active, you might get infected by a subspace entity. If that happens, which hopefully it doesn't, Humanoid guys get a kick in the balls, Humanoid girls get a punch in the face, anything else… just hurt them. Oh, if you're in here… sorry, I didn't get your name.”
“Kumar, sir,” the contractor said. “Amelia Kumar.”
“Right, Kumar. If you're in here, stay away from Kendrick - a white guy, curly hair, lazy prosthetic eye.”
“Okay, why?”
“Just a weirdo, I thought I'd save you ten minutes of his weird conversations. This way, people.”
The next deck, he continued showing them around. Pointing out the cafeteria, the bar, the living quarters, shooting range, the fire exit (as he called the escape pods). The infirmary was skipped after Allen remembered Doctor Inha was on a smoke break. The Science Room was… actually, he appeared to have forgotten about that. Eventually they bumped into a bald, bearded man, clearly Allen's age, Avery Devon, funnily enough the ship's Science Officer.
“You,” he said to the ensign, his voice surprisingly American to her, “With me right? Kumar?”
“Err, yeah,” Kumar said.
“I’m going to steal her from you, if you don’t mind, Captain,” Devon said to him.
“Be my guest,” Allen replied.
“Follow me, Kumar.” He guided her backwards from where they came.
“Science Officer Devon, that's who he is. Right… where else?” Allen looked around. “Eh, signs'll tell you everywhere else. Off to the armoury.”
----------------------------------------
Kumar was taken to her new workspace, one of the ship's general laboratories. It was mostly a bunch of machinery and computers, with sealed chemicals and equipment up on the shelves. There were multiple other personnel hanging around, mostly Humans and Arvans, even a couple Androids. Some were in uniform, others weren't.
Something was tossed at her by one of the personnel, a female Arvan. She nearly dropped it but thankfully that didn't happen. “Solve that,” the Arvan said.
It was a metal object, systemised into multiple different branches, each piece seemingly able to rotate, detach and connect. Markings were generated all over it, Solarian imagery.
“Some of us are betting whether you can solve it fast enough or not,” Devon stated. “Just want to see how you are.”
Kumar had primarily studied Solarian architecture, given the fact their very existence as our more advanced ancestors practically rewrote what we understood about mainstream Human history, it was a very popular choice to go with. She had seen something like this before. Just one or two lessons she barely remembered from university had referenced them. In a nutshell, they could be described as a mix between an overly-complicated Rubiks cube and pop culture trivia. Outside of the technology, the Humans of today were really not so different to their ancestors.
“Start the timer,” the Arvan said.
A Human scientist began the timer on his phone. “Five minutes. Go.”
Almost immediately, Kumar had been thrown into an internal frenzy, one quite obvious to those around her. It was as if all knowledge she had was thrown into a solid metal box and tossed into the North Sea. The markings suddenly became a blur, and her muscles seemingly refused to move.
Eventually, she took a breath, and sat straight down on one of the wheelie chairs. The room was silent, allowing her to somewhat concentrate on the spot. The markings, they had to be paired up. Kumar thought back to Solarian culture, a toy like this would barely involve something like popular folk tales, a lot of the youth would not have given much of a shit about that at the time.
Entertainment and history, on the other hand, was definitely on their minds. She connected a few, and then a couple more. The topics were somewhat obscure, but with her insane university course, it was useful to take note of them. From the strange political scandals to quotes from poets and comedians. Not good ones when translated into English, but they were famous enough to remember.
More than two-thirds had been completed before the marimba tune of the timer sounded, causing her train of thought to devolve into slight frustration.
“Reha owes me twenty quid,” a scientist said, referring to the Arvan that gave her the toy.
“Thirty quid to me,” the scientist with the timer remarked.
Reha groaned, and began to transfer the credits from her phone.
“Kumar did good enough,” Devon said, now sitting by what was probably his desk. He gestured her to come over, Kumar rolled over on the wheelie chair.
“Was that okay?” She asked.
“Solarian pop culture, it's not something a lot in your field bother with. You did well, don't worry about it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don't bother with calling me that, just call me Devon. I’m fine with Avery off duty.”
“Right, right. Can I ask a question, s— Devon?”
“Free galaxy, go ahead.”
“You're American, right?”
“Welsh on my mom's side, but yeah, I'm from the States. Los Angeles, actually.”
“What brought you here?” Kumar asked.
“For one, Los Angeles is like… let's just say the movies never depict it correctly. It's like… Birmingham, like a bigger version of Birmingham. No offence.”
“I'm used to it.”
“And second of all, the British were the only ones who answered my calls. I was originally going to do my own independent expeditions and research but let’s be honest, it’s expensive. I thought it would be cheaper to contract with the RSC, eventually that became full time.”
“What kind of research?”
“Subspace stuff. It doesn't matter. Did the Captain give you a tour of the place?” Devon asked, clearly hoping not to give one. “With the Prince?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that saves me a lot of time. You know your duties right?”
“All in the email,” Kumar said. “I was expecting a bit more, though.”
“Yeah, that's space exploration. Most of the time it's just data collecting and analysing. All the exciting stuff unfortunately is more… occasional. You'll likely get assigned to an Away Team but until then, computer work. Oh, and watering Reha's plants. Be careful, one of them bites.”
“How badly?”
“It's like a Venus flytrap on steroids,” Reha said, leaning on the counter.
Devon then asked, “Do you have any firearms training whatsoever?”
“No?” Kumar said, not exactly surprised it was an American asking her this. “Just stun guns.”
“Okay, get yourself some firearms training. Away Team missions get very dangerous, and a stun gun won't exactly get you anywhere in quite a few situations. See Rune about that, she's our Security Officer. No, you can't keep the guns outside of duty. You haven't been shown your quarters yet, have you?”
“No.”
“Deck below, 145. The signs'll tell you. You start the day after tomorrow, get yourself acquainted with the ship. For now… yeah.” He rotated his chair, facing the computer. “You start tomorrow morning. See you then.”
----------------------------------------
Allen was forced to divert the tour elsewhere. Apparently the simulation room was where Rune and much of the security personnel had been. As the doors opened, the ear-bleeding sounds of gunfire had suddenly been released from the room. The simulation within was an apartment, one with its wall blown completely off, allowing a view of what seemed to be a war-torn city, likely the Mid-21st Century US.
The security personnel had gathered in the room, all wearing body armour, all equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry, laying down deafening fire over the outside. Allen pressed on the console, and turned the noise of their weaponry down a bit
A woman, early thirties, was commanding the others a series of instructions, before suddenly eyeing Allen and Louis. “Captain,” she said in a thick Yorkshire accent, saluting at the same time. It was funny, on every ship he had served on (at this point in time, three) the security officer had always been someone from the north. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was a stereotype proving itself.
“Training exercises, are we?” Allen said.
“Just a warm up. Is this the little Prince?”
Louis saluted, “Leftenant Louis, ma'am.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Call me Rune.” She pointed to the side. “Armour, weapons. They're holographic, so don't worry about damaging them. Now get to work, we have about five minutes left of this shit.”
All of a sudden, someone down the corridor shouted, “ALLAHU AKBAR!” To which a deafening bang ensued, followed with the sounding of the building's further destruction.
“Oh for God's sake, can someone check that bloody flank?!” Rune exclaimed.
“We're up against randoms?” Louis asked.
“Anything that classifies as a bad guy.” She gestured her head to follow her.
“Right,” Allen said, “I'll be heading off now, have fun with this.” The Captain exited back into the corridors, and began to make his way back up to the bridge.
Rune poked her head out the window and pointed. Louis looked outside. All the hostiles varied from Nazis, American Insurgents, all the way to Terminators.
“This is…”
“Batshit insane?” One of the Ensigns said.
“Oi, can it, Finch,” Rune told her. Another Ensign passed Louis a rifle and some light body armour. “You luckily joined the party late. We have five minutes left of this, think you can handle it?”
“I'm a Leftenant for a reason, Ma'am.” He pulled the bolt of his rifle.
----------------------------------------
“Alan!” Fenhi shouted from down the corridor.
The Captain halted his step into the lift, seeing the Arvan Medical Officer rushing up towards him. “All right, Inha?”
“Alan, listen, I really need you to do me a favour.”
“Yeah, sure. Is everyth—”
“How long until we leave?” It was clear he was out of breath. He nearly took out a cigarette before deciding against it.
“About…” Allen pulled out his phone. “An hour. Are you okay?”
“I need to talk to you somewhere private.”
“I was about to head up to the bridge.”
“Not the bridge.” Fenhi's voice lowered. “Somewhere nobody can listen in.”
A large closet was where they found themselves in not too long after. Nobody could listen in, not even JADE.
“What's wrong, Inha?” Allen asked lowly.
“I need you to do me a favour.”
“Okay?”
“So, I'm in quite a lot of debt right now…”
Allen folded his arms, though the cramped space of the closet made it uncomfortable to keep, the large Arvan bulk of Fenhi certainly didn't help either. “Are you asking for cash, Doctor?”
“God no, you wouldn't be able to afford it.”
“How much is it you owe?”
“Errrrrrrr…”
“Inha?”
“Two and a half… billion.”
A few seconds of silence ensued. “Who… what…”
“Look, I took out a few loans for a couple medical experiments…”
“A few l— who the fuck is loaning you two and a half billion credits over medical experiments?!”
“They could have been revolutionary!”
“Were they?!”
“Well, no, I made a few bad investments and somehow gave a fifth of Oxford heart disease.”
“That was you?!”
“Chill, only six people died, Alan.”
Allen calmed down slightly, but was still quite pissed off. “How are you even here in the first place? You understand people like you is why the government's been cutting our funding, right?”
“That… doesn't sound like a rational response.”
“It's the British government, rationalism hasn't been on their agenda in centuries.”
“So, about that favour.”
The Captain sighed, feeling like he knew what was going to come up. “What do you want me to do, Inha?”
“I want you to fake my death.”
There was some silence. Okay, maybe Allen didn’t know. “What?”
“I said I want you to fake my death. Just dump me somewhere, let me lay low for a few years, and I'll change my identity or something,” Finha sighed, “I don't know, it's easier than finding a way to pay off the debt.”
“Fake your death?!”
“I'll die in an explosion or something, maybe go out like Gavin, use a hologram to fake it.”
“What about Nurse Pale? Do you want to break that poor lady's heart? She looks up to you, you know?”
“Seriously?” Fenhi clearly wasn't convinced.
“Okay, maybe not. But think of all the people on board who care about you!”
“I've seen people injure themselves just to ogle at the nurse, Alan.”
“All right but… are you sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure.” Fenhi sighed. "How long have we been friends?”
“Two years.”
“Can't you do this one thing for me? As a friend?”
“I—” Alan stuttered a bit. “Sure… I guess I could put you in a shuttle… hang on, we're explorers, can't you just sell something and then pay off the debt?”
“I've got the police hunting me back home. With six people dead, that's basically the point of no return.”
“Well… fine. Sure. I'll figure something out along the way.”
“Life saver, man.” Fenhi quickly left the closet, and eventually so did Alan.
From above, JADE's voice popped in, “Should Imogen be concerned?”
“Oh hi, JADE,” Alan said. “No, just a fr— I'm not gay. It was just a chat.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“No. You realise you don't need to know everything that's happening all the time, don't you?”
“I kind of do, Captain, it's my job.”
“Is there anything else, JADE?”
“No, Captain.”
“Well, then.” Allen then headed off.
----------------------------------------
The entirety of the exhausted security personnel had already left the simulator, some just went to have a hobnob, others seemed like they needed counselling. Rune, for the first time in a while, was starting to consider the latter.
“Well, that was errr…” She was debating on whether she should be impressed or terrified. “Interesting, to say the least.”
“I apologise, I do tend to show off when it comes to training exercises,” Louis said, somewhat proud, as all the hardlight body armour and the blood he had preciously been drenched in dissipated.
“I wouldn't call breaking twelve articles of the Geneva Convention in the span of five minutes 'showing off'. Christ, I'm not excited for when you become King.”
Louis stared at her. “I'm not going to be King.”
“Isn't Queen Vicky your mum?”
He chuckled. “No, she’s my auntie. My dad is her younger brother.”
“Right, the younger sibling genes. That explains a lot,” Rune muttered. “Are you okay, at all?”
“I'm perfectly fine, Ma'am.”
“That's what they all say,” she muttered again. “Look, please don't 'show off' when you're on duty, the last thing we want this year is a trial for war crimes, and honestly, I also prefer it that my people don't leech the budget for therapy, our funding's been cut enough.” She began to leave. “That's an order, by the way.”
“Yes, Ma'am.” The second she was out of his sight, he sighed. “Shit.”
A ship-wide announcement from JADE soon chimed in. “All personnel, please be advised, the Berners-Lee will be departing from the station in an hour. Thank you.”
----------------------------------------
Xian had stepped out of the lift, onto the bridge of the Berners-Lee. The officers within had already sorted preparations for departure, with a brief confirmation from Stephen that the subspace drive was ready for activation.
Passing Second Officer Burnsley, he sat down by Allen in the middle of the room, staring out to the shining night side of Earth. A last gaze before exploring beyond the frontiers of UN space for the next year.
“All things sorted?” Allen asked Xian.
“All things sorted.” He leaned back. “How was His Majesty back there?”
“Standard. Nothing much to say, really.”
“If he dies, the Crown will have our heads.”
“Right, because it's the fifteen-hundreds and half of us are dying of cholera. If Leftenant Louis dies, the most that'll happen is a bit of media coverage, a half-arsed statement from the PM, and then everyone will go out about their day. He's the Queen's nephew, nobody cares that much about them lot.”
“We could be sacked,” Xian remarked.
“We'll be sacked anyway. Upper management's been a bit of a shitshow recently, already decommissioned the John Snow and the Hawking. At this rate, we'll likely be next by the end of the year.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
“We'll cross that bridge when it comes to it,” Allen concluded.
“Docking clamps have been released, Captain,” JADE informed. “Thrusters initiated, exiting the station.” Quite swiftly, the Berners-Lee had exited the spaceport. “Ready to enter subspace, Captain, on your command.”
“Well then.” The Captain crossed his legs. “Off we go.”
The subspace drive initiated. And the great view of the cosmos soon transitioned into an endless conglomerate of colours, near incomprehensible to look at had it not been for the filter imprinted on all the windows. The Berners-Lee had navigated itself into one of the many streams present within subspace, and so began another expedition.