Ghost in the Machine (Corwint Central Agent Files) Page 3

  Why stand apart when you can stand together?

  Central believed that standing together was fine, as long as someone wasn’t standing on top of you with the heel of their boot and forcing you to participate by shoving a gun in the face of your children. The Xen’dari disagreed. The Objective was all, and all was the Objective. The ends would inevitably justify the means when all worlds were prosperous and equal in the peaceful bliss that the Empire had brought. It was repeated at every Xen’dari training facility from the age of five until the day they died in uniform.

  Their utopian drivel had caused countless battles over the centuries when worlds they sought to command had refused to be commanded. It was no different than the empires that had come and gone before them and so Central was content to simply keep the balance in check. There would always be an Empire, and there would always be a Central. It was the way of the universe and fighting against the current had, in the past, only caused massive wars. While the Xen’dari sought to conquer all, Central picked its battles more carefully. For that reason, it would endure and continue its purpose long after the Xen’dari had fallen to ash and another empire had risen in its place.

  Despite what the Director may or may not think about Hank, the legacy of Central was always heavy on his mind. Jhonis had filled his head with stories of past agents and how they had helped to avert all out planetary war numerous times in just his lifetime. Jhonis often played a part in those missions, and he had been admired by his peers. They even tried to make him a director once, but he turned it down and told them he had a ship to fly. Hank wasn’t sure if he could ever live up to such expectations or be brave enough to turn down the safety of the director’s chair. The position is only offered to you once, and there weren’t any field agents Hank could think of that had died of old age, including his uncle.

  “So, are you going to give us the intel on our next assignment, or are we supposed to just start making guesses?” The voice of Tara Flint broke into Hank’s thoughts. She was staring at him with her bright green eyes from across the conference table in the Zera’s small meeting room. She had her long brunette hair pulled back into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck, letting is fall over one shoulder and across her chest.

  Hank had known Tara since she was eight. When her mother died, Jhonis had let her father, the ship’s engineer at the time, sneak her aboard. She proved to be better with a wrench than her father and a better shot with a gun than Hank. She was now twenty-six and he was still trying to keep up with her. Hank held up a finger and opened his mouth to speak, but he was quickly interrupted by the large Orellian male sitting next to her.

  “One word... starts with... Shit, you know I suck at charades, Cap’.” Brommrigor Torregathos scratched his chin. Bald as the day he was born, he had the orange scaled skin and large muscular frame of all Orellian males, but his hazel eyes betrayed the Corwint blood that also flowed in his veins. He pointed a large finger at Hank and turned to Tara.

  “Ya’know T, I think we are about to hear how he got chewed out by the Director again.”

  Tara laughed with a small snort. “For being terrible at charades, Brom, I bet you scored with that guess.”

  “Now that’s hardly fair.” Ethan looked at the two across from him sternly and the smirks slowly melted from their faces. The four of them made up the main crew of the ship. Hank was Captain, of course, and a damn good pilot. Ethan handled the intel, communications and anything tech. Brom was all about shooting enemy ships into space junk and Tara kept the ship running. They would often take on an additional crew member when their assignments required it, but they were quite an efficient team. They just had a way of doing things that Central didn’t always agree with.

  “You know Hank’s record, after all. No one would wager against such a bet.”

  Hank rolled his eyes at the Mecha as Tara and Brom broke out into snickers. “Thanks, Ethan.”

  “Anytime.” Ethan said in a serious manner. “Just trying to maintain the morale of the crew. I have read that it is usually best to lighten the mood of Organics before delivering bad news in order to soften the blow, as they say.”

  “What bad news” Tara’s laughter ended abruptly and her eyes turned to Ethan with a look of concern.

  The Zera was already on auto-pilot and heading toward its next destination while they were having this little meeting. It wasn’t unusual for Hank to call them all together to discuss their next objective from Central, but it was usually done on the bridge. When Ethan didn’t answer her question, Tara’s mood went from concern to a fear that she masked with a growing anger. Moving her gaze away from the silent Mecha, she turned her anger on Hank.

  “Did they can you, Hank? That space station was not our fault! Would they have preferred that her Highness was delivered in a body bag for the sake of some rust bucket that over charged us for fuel?”

  “Calm it, Tara.” Hank held up his hands. Tara had a spark in her, and once ignited, he knew it could be hard to lower the temperature. “I didn’t get fired. I’m not really sure Central fires anyone.”

  “Yes,” Ethan nodded. “it’s more of a termination.”

  “Not funny.” Tara furrowed her brow and gave Ethan a glare that portrayed the sudden desire to grab a welding torch and fuse his jaw together.

  “Well I hope the news isn't that they’re docking that port’s repairs outta our pay.” Brom frowned. “I’ve almost got enough saved up for a new bike.”

  Hank eyed the Orellian apologetically. “Still sorry about what happened to the last one.”

  “Awe, don’t sweat it, Cap’.” Brom waved his hand dismissively, then leaned back in his chair. It gave a loud creaking protest against his weight and threatened to snap at any moment. “It was on its last legs anyway. Sure gave that Xen’dari cruiser a run for its money, though!”

  Hank chuckled as he remembered the look on the Xen’dari pilot’s face as his land cruiser drove head on into a waste disposal hauler. “Yeah, that was something I’ll never forget.”

  “Focus boys!” Tara cut in before Hank could continue down memory lane. She could tell he was stalling. “What happened today?”

  The levity left Hank’s face and he let out a deep sigh. “We’re getting a new crew member.”

  “Is that all?” Tara gave a deep exhale to calm her temper. “You act like it’s the end of the universe.”

  Hank looked across at Tara and decided it was best just to come out with it. “She’s Vesparian.”

  “What?” Brom’s chair slammed back down to the ground as he leaned forward. “I mean, how can you be really sure right? Maybe it’s just an imposter or a...”

  “Central isn't exactly known for its clerical errors.” Hank cut him off. He knew Brom would have the biggest problem with this.

  It was rumored that Orellians fought against Vesparian fighters a millennia ago when the Tarsen Empire, Xen’dari’s predecessor, was seeking to capture Orell for its vast resource of Keszite ore. The details of the war were sketchy at best, even to the Orellians who had lost most of their accounts of the battles along with a good two-thirds of their population. What did remain were oral histories passed down from generation to generation of the countless slaughtered at the whims of the Vesparians, female infiltrators known at the time as Wraiths.

  The stories said that the Wraiths were like ghosts on the field of battle, and that they were able to manipulate the minds of their enemies, even turning them on one another. Orell was just one of the planets the Tarsen were attacking at the time, but the Wraiths seemed to be everywhere at once. Even when civil war broke out on the Tarsen homeworld of Tarsa’xen, they continued their brutal campaigns.

  The Orellians managed to keep their freedom and their planet only because the Wraiths suddenly left the battlefields and were never seen again. The Tarsen empire crumbled in on itself shortly after. All that remained of the Wraiths today were tall tales and hushed whispers spoken across trading-port card tables.

  “Apparently
, Vesparians have been working on missions for Central Command for over eight centuries.” Ethan explained as he watched the veins on Brom’s neck enlarge. “They made some sort of deal with Command that their presence only be made known to a select few. Her presence on our crew is strictly classified between the Director, the Command Council and us.”

  Brom felt like ripping the conference table in half, and given his natural Orellian strength, it wouldn’t of been an impossibility. He didn’t a give shit how long Command had been working with the Vesparians. Despite all the rumors and being mocked, his people had always been adamant that Wraiths existed. To find out that it was true, and they were going to allow one on board, was the single most fucked up thing he had ever heard. “And you agreed to this?”

  “I wasn’t given a choice.” Hank sighed heavily. He hated having to do this to his friend. “Trust me, buddy, I’m just as unhappy about this idea as you are.”

  “Unhappy? Un-fucking-happy? You don’t know what they are like! You don’t know what they did!”

  “Whoa, big guy.” Tara placed a hand on Brom’s arm, his muscles flexing with rage. “I know your people’s history, but it was a thousand years ago. We don’t know what they are like now.”

  Brom looked down at Tara and tried to put his anger back in the bottle. “But T, it’s not just the history. You’ve heard what they say about them.”

  Tara nodded. “I’ve heard plenty of drunken ghost stories told by smugglers trying to one-up each other. I just think that the Director wouldn’t assign her to us if she was dangerous.”

  “Well, that’s just it.” Brom crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair again. “How can we be sure she didn’t fuddle the Director’s mind or something?”

  “And infiltrate the Central database to upload her personnel file?” Tara shook her head. “Why would she announce that she was Vesparian in the first place and go to all that trouble to get onto our rag-tag crew?”

  “I am in agreement with Brom.” Ethan looked between the three of them. He wanted to calm the situation before Brom destroyed the conference room and possibly Hank’s pretty face.

  “Sometimes the easiest place to hide is out in the open. We do it every day. Though there are many rumors about them that I doubt, one has always been consistent. The Vesparians are said to be information dealers. It would stand to reason that infiltrating a Central ship in order to gain intel on missions being carried out wouldn’t be a farfetched idea.”

  “Thanks.” The tension in Brom’s arms slacked slightly, but the anger in his voice was still very much present. “I’m sorry Cap’. I know orders is orders, but I don’t like it.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t, Brom, and I really am sorry.” Hank had depended on Brom so many times before, but he knew this would be asking much of him. He just hoped the strain it seemed to have put on their friendship would pass. After receiving a small head nod of acceptance from Brom, Hank turned toward Ethan. “Why didn’t you bring up your suspicions with Director Szina?”

  “Clearly, if she had been compromised it would have been pointless.” Ethan stated matter-of-factly.

  “Oh.” Hank cleared his throat. “Yes, clearly.”

  “Okay.” Tara took a deep breath. The air on the ship suddenly felt very heavy. With a possible spy being welcomed on board, she knew it would be a very uncomfortable next few weeks. “What should we do?”

  “I plan to welcome her as part of the crew, just as the Director instructed.” Ethan paused and tapped a finger against his temple. “I’m a Mecha, remember. If she tries anything, I’ll know it, and then we can use it against her. If Central has indeed been compromised, we need to find out and plug the hole, or it could put our necks and the lives of thousands of field agents at risk.”

  Ethan looked around at the faces of his crew mates. Each of them nodded in agreement with his plan. It was apparent that his last point had hit home with all of them. They understood the risk they were about to take, but they also understood the necessity of it.

  “First, we are picking her up at Last Star,” Ethan continued. “that small way station on the outskirts of the Kilari system. From there, we will see which rumors about Vesparians are true and which are simply ghost stories.”

  4 Last Star

  The remainder of the two day journey to the outskirts of the Kilari system was quieter than usual compared to their typically boisterous routines of conversation and laughter. Each crew member of the Zera found themselves consumed by their own thoughts and anxieties about the person they were about to take on board. They were either gaining a potentially useful new addition for their missions, or they were about to allow a very dangerous enemy on to their small ship. Either way, one thing was certain; the close quarters of the Zera were going to get much tighter in the days ahead.

  The Kilari system was a small grouping of four planets circling a yellow star, two of which were inhabited. The territory was officially within the jurisdiction of the Xen’dari Empire, but its location was on the outer reaches and served mostly as a buffer zone between the Empire’s prime holdings and the free territories monitored by Corwint. Last Star was a busy waystation that held its position on that very fine and precarious line between Xen’dari and Corwint claimed space.

  “Are you sure there is no way out of this, Cap?”

  Hank stopped his quickly paced strides through the small docking bay of Last Star, nearly causing those behind him to run into his back. He let out a heavy breathed sigh and closed his tired eyes. “For the final time, Brom, yes. I am absolutely, positively, one hundred and a billion percent sure there is no way out of this.”

  Brom took a small step back and held up his hands. He had seen that look on Hank’s face before a hundred times. Usually, Hank was able to keep his anger out of sight, except when he was really aggravated, and when he got really aggravated, no one was safe. “Alright, man. You know we’re behind you on this. It’s just... well, you know...”

  Hank ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, musing the unruly bangs that were forever flopped just above his eyes. “Yeah, I know, but I have my orders. There’s no getting out of this.”

  Brom’s broad shoulders sagged and he nodded in final defeat. He knew questioning it further wouldn’t get him anywhere but on waste recycling duty for the next month. “Okay, Cap.”

  Tara glanced over at Brom and lightly touched his arm. She knew this was going to be hard for the big guy. After a smile shared between them, she turned her eyes back to the pleasant view in front of her. Letting her eyes settle so deeply on the well-sculpted backside of her Captain was a dangerous game, but it was one she very much enjoyed playing. He may still look at her like some eight year old kid in pig-tails chasing him down the corridor with a coolant sprayer, but her mind had grown into that of a woman. No matter how many times she looked at him, her eyes could never get enough. The tight black pants and equally tight black nanofiber shirt he wore were really not helping matters.

  “Tara?” Brom poked the engineer with a small grin. He had been asking her a question, but received no response. He knew that look in her eyes and the unrequited feelings she had for Hank. After her father died, Brom had tried to take over and be there for her. She didn’t come to him with her troubles as much as she used to, though. He wasn’t sure he would know what to tell her about something like this if she did.

  Tara woke out of her daze and turned back to Brom, blushing slightly at the grin he was giving her. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Should I elaborate on that?” A sly male voice taunted Tara from behind the group without warning. The voice’s owner, Merik, had a humorless grin cast across the slender features of his face as he stepped silently from the shadows of a support column.

  Brom gave a visual shudder in surprise as Merik’s form seemed to appear from nowhere to fall in perfect step with the group. Brom grumbled to himself and gave the man a sideways glance. “You really gotta quit sneaking up on us like that. One of these da
ys you’re gonna get a gun pulled on you.”

  Merik’s mix of smile and sneer widened to reveal his bestial sharp upper and lower canine teeth. He wore the look of a wild animal that had been caged too long and then let loose on the universe. A deceptively thin gunmetal colored trench coat surrounded his form and moved easily with him in one fluid connected motion, as if it was part of his body. It had the same technology as the Zera’s reflective hull panels, heightening Merik’s natural abilities to blend in with his surroundings.

  His jet black hair was pulled back into a ponytail that ended just below the middle of his shoulders, but loose strands framed his tanned face and heightened the deep black hue of his eyes. The black orbs he had for eyes resembled a Hedarion’s, but his tall height let the universe know he was so much more below the surface. “Sorry, Brom. I forgot you were so jumpy.”

  Brom frowned at the Trexen. “I just hate it when you do that.”

  “Not as much as her.” Merik turned his black eyes to Tara. He didn’t make a habit of reading minds, even though the inherent mental abilities of his Trexen genetics made it effortless. Unless it was mission related for Central, he didn’t really see the point. Most minds thought of nothing but sex, how to get sex and what to eat after fucking. These few now in his company, which he may even refer to as friends if he believed in such an idea, could make it mildly more entertaining.

  Tara gave Merik a small smile and shrugged. “I won't deny it.”