Remember the Starfighter Read online

  “Diverting auxiliary power to the shields,” Nalia said.

  Julian could see it on the view screen: a once quiescent world mutilated into a rampaging weapon. He held on to the ship’s controls, squeezing whatever he could out of them. There had to be a way out.

  As he made the plea in his mind, the ship answered back, a golden icon appearing on the navigational viewer.

  “Got it. Hyperspace jump point locked in,” he said. “It’s barely stable, but it’ll have to do.”

  If the Crusader couldn’t outrun the explosion at its current speed, it would just have to disappear into the fabric of space all together. Julian punched in the coordinates, and activated the vessel’s hyperspace drive.

  In the area ahead of the Crusader, the veil of blackness ebbed then broke apart, as if two invisible hands had burrowed a hole into space. A portal materialized, one filled with cosmic energies. It was what scientists called hyperspace — the backdoor behind the universe, where barriers to light and distance collapsed and merged. Julian took the Crusader in, the ship vanishing from sight.

  Chapter 2

  Remember Earth.

  Glancing at the words, Julian read them again, trying to understand.

  “Earth,” he said out loud, the hint of amusement in his voice. “What is there to remember?”

  12 hours earlier, before the devastating attack on Meridian station, Julian had been at work inside his transport ship when he spotted the neglected slogan.

  Standing at the porthole, he found the forgotten text out in space — the bold-faced letters nearly scratched away.

  He focused his attention to the vessel that carried the words, the phrase painted across thick slabs of armor.

  The Avenger was in orbit, the battleship waiting for the incoming cargo. Saddling his own one-man spacecraft next to it, Julian had begun making the transfer.

  In the back of his ship, tugged a long-train of packaged freights. As he initiated the unloading procedures, a pair of space-suited workers had started dismantling the cargo to ferry them into the Avenger’s hanger bay.

  It was all routine work. Mostly mundane. Nothing complicated, but also beneath his skill.

  Alone, inside the cockpit, Julian looked out another porthole to see the rest of the battleship.

  He expected to find nothing different. More thick ingots of armor. Along with all the weaponry, holding still among the ship’s hulking mass.

  Instead, what Julian found called out to him.

  There was no battleship in his midst now. Only the war.

  Out of his own volition, Julian began to see it, his mind stumbling across the memory, as he always had. The shot to the head. The blood from the mouth. The weapon in his hand. In that moment, he had returned to the past, his body slipping into death.

  Gasping for air, Julian clenched the ship’s bulkhead and turned away from the window.

  He had only wanted to go about his day normally, and focus on the task at hand. But what came was the last thing Julian could ever want: to remember and to relive it.

  Taking a deep breath, he looked around, only to see the isolated confines of his tiny ship. In another sigh, Julian planted himself down in the pilot’s seat, still alone.

  —Incoming message

  He heard the chime of the electronic beep. Reluctantly, he answered the call, the glass monitor to his ship’s computer flickering on.

  “HAVEN SPACECORE DISPATCH” read its title, the message clearly military in nature. Baffled to see it, Julian opened the file and displayed the contents on the screen.

  What he saw left him in pause. Was this a joke?

  “Shit,” he muttered, reading the message again. “I’ve been reactivated.”

  ***

  HTN NEWSCASTER: Contact with the Iyanas homeworld of Feradan ended today, as Endervar forces encircled the planet, disrupting all communication and traffic with one of the Alliance’s largest colonies.

  Over 14 billion Iyanas citizens were estimated to be based on Feradan, a colony that had not been listed under imminent threat from Endervar invasion.

  The stunning siege has left much of the galactic public in shock, and adds more evidence that the Alliance’s latest containment strategy may be failing.

  Two days before, over 300 Endervar ships entered the Iyanas home system to crush the defending local fleet. A separate counterattack by the Alliance military was also repelled, the total casualties of both engagements numbering in the tens of thousands.

  Military data on Endervar movement in the galaxy remains confidential. But recent attacks paint a grim picture, showing enemy forces invading more worlds once assumed protected, and well outside the Alliance’s containment zone.

  ALLIANCE REPRESENTATIVE Z’HARIAN: We have no comment on the invasion of Feradan at this time, only to say that the Alliance will continue to embark with standard evacuation and containment protocols. We urge the public to remain calm.

  HTN NEWSCASTER: Alliance representatives have yet to offer any updates. However, speculation is running high that the Alliance will be forced to pull back the containment zone, due to the ongoing Endervar incursions.

  As the Iyanas people mourn, we at HTN asked if our own planet of Haven should be concerned about the growing aggressiveness of the Endervar attacks.

  Chancellor Kasalana has yet to make a comment on Feradan, aside from her condolences. But this afternoon, her chief of staff said the current administration continues to invest heavily in the SpaceCore military, along with the outer-colony project of Isen.

  LONA CRAY: We’ve been preparing for all contingencies for centuries now. We have the right plans in place, and we’re enacting them as swiftly as possible. That said, we still have time. Feradan has been an unfortunate, but unique, situation.

  HTN NEWSCASTER: In other news, Haven’s SpaceCore is preparing to launch its next-generation spacecraft tomorrow. After seven years in development, the S.C. Paragon—

  Enough. Julian cared little for what the television was saying, only that it was annoying him. Not like it mattered. The ongoing war had, and always would, dominate the interstellar broadcasts.

  He sat there alone at the bar, a drink of hard liquor in his left hand as he shifted his attention away from the television monitor in the corner of the room. To his right, was his other hand propping up his sullen head.

  “You look like one sad sack of shit Julian.”

  At first, he barely heard the voice. The news of the day continued to buzz through the confines of the small establishment. Julian had just finished the midnight shift; all the other station workers were either sleeping or out starting work. Far to his left, however, he noticed Mac, the bartender, washing a cup with a white towel.

  Mac shook his head in disapproval, seeing Julian, this transport pilot slouch on the bar table, half-drunk. Noticing that he wasn’t completely alone, Julian wiped the drool coming from his lips with his sleeve. He puckered up his mouth as if proud and nursed the ounces of whiskey still in his cup.

  Not caring in the least, Julian seemed worn beyond his 30 years of age, his skin rough, and his mane of black hair unkempt and littered with flecks of gray. Massaging his uneven beard, he then grabbed his cup, and took another drink, the hard juices oozing down his throat.

  “What’s up Nverson? Bad day on the job?” Mac asked with a smirk.

  Hearing the question, Julian massaged his face, trying to relax his mind as he thought of a coherent answer. He burped, and then groaned.

  “I got the call today,” Julian said as he looked off in the distance to see nothing but vacant wall. “SpaceCore wants me to suit up.”

  “Are you serious?” Mac said, putting down the cup he was cleaning.

  Julian nodded, slumping his body over the bar table.

  “Something big is going on with SpaceCore,” Mac said, pressing harder to clean the soap scum on the cup. “Feradan falls, and days before Witaga V, it can’t be a coincidence.”

  Half of the clientele that came to Mac’s
bar were station workers. The other half were those from the military, stopping in to get a real alcoholic beverage. And so naturally, Mac heard things. Recently, most of it was bad.

  “They must be desperate for recruits,” Julian said as he finished off his drink, the alcohol burning his throat. “Last I remember the Core didn’t want me. Fuckers.”

  Mac, standing behind the bar, grabbed Julian’s now empty glass.

  “I’ll give you another one. This one is on the house,” he said. “Haven needs you buddy.”

  As he poured another drink, Mac happily smiled, like he was trying to congratulate Julian on the journey ahead.

  “Plus, being a hero is better than being out here, hulling transports all day,” the bartender added.

  “Whatever Mac,” Julian said. “At least out here you don’t have to worry about getting killed.”

  ***

  We miss you Julian.

  The girls hope to see you again. Catherine is five now, and Rehana is already three-and-half. Next time you visit, it would be great if you could bring them some gifts. They loved that Anium chocolate you brought last time.

  I haven’t heard from you for much too long. I tried calling you in the past, but I could never reach you. I know things have been difficult. It’s been difficult for everyone, but especially you. Mom and Dad are still here, helping to take care of the kids, and they’re doing fine. Your brother Darien has been working hard in the government, and last month he was promoted. As for me, it’s been pretty stressful I have to admit. My unit has been trying to synthesize a new kind of Tricaline for use, but we are still behind schedule. It’s forced me to put extra hours in the labs. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it done.

  Things on Haven haven’t really changed. They’ve stopped a lot of the rationing, and the protests have died down a bit. Even though it’s about a decade away, they’ve started signing people up to take colony ships. My unit might make the transfer to Isen as part of a new weapons plant, but it’s still too soon to say.

  Anyways, you must come visit when you have the time. Even a call will do. It would make me, and the rest of the family feel a lot better. We’re always here for you. You’re not alone brother. I worry about you a lot. So please call if you can.

  Your sister,

  Angela

  Julian closed the message, its contents dimming away into darkness as the three-dimensional hologram shutdown. The message had been two months old, but only now did Julian read the words. He rubbed his brow while closing his eyes, the needle of longing picking into his thoughts.

  He was alone now, once again, sitting inside his quarters on board the orbital space station. Cramped was his room: a bed, washroom, and storage space tightly tucked together and shelved between long columns of other living quarters. It was plain, and lifeless, nothing of sentimental value, all merely just functional. He had no need for such material goods, no need to remind himself of his past. Soon he turned off the lights with an order from his voice, and lay on his bed, his body fatigued from the alcohol and the events of the day.

  Julian then took a final glance at the window to his room, where a field of stars hung in the view. 29 light-years away was where his sister and family was, on Haven, the home system. It had been over two years since he had set foot on the planet. His youth and upbringing had all started there. But Julian had little interest in returning. He instead found himself out here, in another star system. His new so-called home: Meridian station, a key outpost of Haven’s military.

  The air was synthesized, the gravity artificial, and much of the food he ate came fabricated, never cooked. These were the comforts of living in space, everything entirely manufactured. Below Meridian station orbited the desolate planet of Eras. There, the government had established mining and weapons facilities, much of it automated by robotics. The raw minerals and manufactured equipment were then sent above to the station, which served as a supply depot and shipyard. Each day, Julian made his tiny contribution, transporting containers to and fro from station to ship. For almost two years he had done this, thinking little about life and just doing.

  But soon that would all change. In spite of his past fallings, the military was calling him back. The war was coming.

  He felt the sensation, the pain burning through his mind. Drips of blood fell from his nostrils, and down to his chin. Rather than wipe it away, Julian massaged the side of his head, and warily remembered where this all began. The old wound would fester, as it always had. It would not let him forget.

  Chapter 3

  She placed the bandage on the wound, and let it work.

  Settling on the skin, the patch of white fiber latched on, covering the cut at his forehead. In a few seconds, the microscopic machines under it would begin rebuilding the tissue.

  “This should make the pain all go away,” she said.

  She called herself Nalia, a lieutenant in the military. He had seen many officers on Meridian station in the two years he had worked there. But never her. She was focused and carried herself confidently. Julian, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel utterly tired from everything they had just gone through.

  He guessed some had survived the attack on Meridian, although surely many had died. The station had more than 500 people on board.

  “These bandages will have to do until we can get you to a functioning medical bay,” Nalia said. “There’s not much here I can work with.”

  She waved her hand at the equipment. The Crusader’s med bay was nearly barren, only a pair of examination tables left standing in the vacant room. Basic medical kits, however, were still in stock.

  Julian pushed himself off the examination table; his bloodied clothes were now changed into a spare gray uniform. He touched his ribs, feeling the outline of the bandages around his cracked bones.

  “I don’t know how we survived that.”

  “Neither do I,” Nalia replied. “I’m just glad I bumped into you. Else I’m not sure I’d be able to pilot this ship.”

  “No,” he said. “I’d be dead if not for you, lieutenant.”

  “No need for the formalities. Nalia will do.”

  She walked off, moving to sit on a chair nearby. Minutes ago, she had cleaned herself up, washing away the smears across her hands and cheek. While the enemy’s attack had been brutal, she appeared unfazed by the trauma. The mark of a veteran, even as she was young, perhaps no older than himself. SpaceCore Intelligence had always been known to recruit from the best and the brightest. In Julian’s experience, most were no-nonsense, and rarely social. This woman, however, was something different.

  “What a total clusterfuck,” she said. Nalia groaned as she spun in the swivel chair.

  “The Endervars attack and wipe out Meridian and our weapons plant on Eras. Strategic command didn’t even see it coming.”

  “What happened back there?” Julian asked. “Why are the Endervars here? Didn’t the military projections put their arrival to this sector in another half-century?”

  “Officially, yes,” she said. “But just in the last few years, we’ve seen the Endervars aggressively expand into this region of space. We count thousands of ships, maybe more. We have no idea why, only that they’re clearly on the search for more sentient life.”

  “So the rumors are true then,” he said. “That’s why I was called back into duty. I was scheduled to report to Haven’s military command. But then this all happened.”

  She chuckled at the irony. “Well, we’re headed there now,” she said. “I was originally stationed on the Avenger, but was transferred to Meridian to help lead operations there. My big promotion.”

  “The enemy ended that.”

  “True, but I aim to see we deliver some payback. SpaceCore is assembling a fleet with the help of the Alliance. It will be our biggest operation yet. We aim to beat those bastards back where they came from.”

  The woman pounded her fist on her knee. He could see the excitement mixed in with grief brim through her eyes. Perhaps it
was holding back an anger at seeing such a huge loss at the hands of the enemy. The disappointments with the military and the SpaceCore were always abundant, with victories few and far between.

  “So what brought you out to Meridian?” she asked. “I hope you didn’t lose any friends back there.”

  The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Friends, he had none on Meridian, except maybe a few acquaintances, Mac the bartender, being one of them. What had become of him, Julian didn’t dare to envision. He had no connections with that place, nothing but his job. He could only feign his sentiments, saying he hoped most of its crew had escaped.

  “I just came there for the work. It was easy, nothing too hard.”

  “I guess that’s gone now,” she said. “This war seems to ruin everything, doesn’t it?”

  He stared down at the floor, slowly nodding to the woman’s comment.

  “You should rest. I’ll take you to a room, where you can lie down. It’ll be a short while or so before we reach Haven.”

  She was right. He was exhausted. Julian rose to his feet and Nalia came to his side, interlinking her arms with his.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you Julian,” she said. “When the shit hits the fan, somehow you still end up meeting good people.”

  ***

  He had been shot. The blood everywhere. In his eyes, even in his mouth. His vision red; his brain matter was scattered about. A hole passing in and out of his head. His body about to collapse.