Loyalties (HMCS Borealis Book 3) Read online

  Loyalties

  S.J. Madill

  Books by S.J. Madill

  Science Fiction

  HMCS Borealis series:

  Burnt Worlds

  Chosen One

  Loyalties

  Borealis #4 (coming soon)

  Borealis #5 (coming later)

  Fantasy

  Magic Comes to Whiteport

  © Copyright 2017 by S.J. Madill

  All rights reserved

  Registration #1137158, CIPO

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, altered, or distributed in any commercial or non-commercial use without the express written consent of the author. Exception is made for quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to individuals, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  The Four Readers of the Apocalypse:

  You know who you are, and everyone sees what you did.

  Thank you.

  Aaron: thank you for throwing stones.

  CHAPTER 1

  It wasn't every day you got a planet to yourself.

  Eric Cho tried to laugh, but the room swallowed his self-conscious chuckle. With a trembling hand, he rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. There was a quiver in his fingertips; it matched the unsteadiness in his legs. Even standing in front of the Admiralty Board hadn't been this nerve-wracking.

  He flinched as the overhead screens flickered again. The displays showed lists of inbound and outbound flights, all cancelled. A large digital clock counted off the seconds, ticking away the moments of the world's last morning.

  The starport terminal was silent now. Check-in counters stood abandoned, and toppled security cordons hinted at the last desperate attempts to maintain order. And, everywhere he looked, there was the sea of luggage. The colonists had been told to leave their possessions, to bring only the clothes on their backs. There were barely enough ships to get the people out in time, let alone their luggage. Yet everyone had still showed up with bags and boxes. Crushing lineups had been filled with desperate people carrying their last, most prized possessions. Now it all lay scattered on the floor of the concourse.

  Eric nudged a child's toy with his shoe, moving it aside as he picked his away across the terminal's open space. Bland, inoffensive music seeped from the loudspeakers; the urgent announcements had long since ended. He looked back the way he'd come, down the tunnel from the now-empty landing pad. It took a moment before he caught sight of his companion: the only other person on the planet.

  The red-skinned alien strolled along like a head of state on an inspection visit. His hands were clasped behind his back as he walked, turning his head back and forth, taking in everything around him. Normally, Sap's calm demeanour was a source of steady comfort, but right now it made Eric want to scream. "Sap," called Eric, a tremble in his voice. "What are you doing?"

  Saparun Vish paused mid-stride, looking down at his feet. His voice was a rumble, like distant drums. "I am walking, Eric."

  Eric gestured behind him, to the empty concourse and its relentless clock. "Could you just…" he paused, shaking his head. He was finding it very difficult to keep his calm; he wanted to run, to scream. "Sap, we missed the last evacuation ship."

  "We did not miss it, Eric. We chose not to board it —"

  "I know," snapped Eric. "You said we had another way off the planet."

  Sap had resumed his tour of inspection, pausing to examine a colourful travel poster on the wall. "I did say that, yes." He pointed at the poster. "Why do they advertise travel destinations here? A person in this passageway is already headed to a ship; they have already chosen their destination."

  "Sap, so help me…"

  Sap's lips pulled back, revealing a wide smile of narrow, serrated teeth. "I was surprised and gratified at how readily you followed my lead. You never even asked what my plan was, Eric."

  "Yeah," said Eric. He found himself checking the clock again. Even though it was a digital readout, he still imagined he could hear — and feel — the ticking of the seconds. "I can't believe we did that," he said. "That was the last ship." The more he thought about it, the more unsteady his stomach became.

  Sap came to a stop beside him, his toothy smile fading. "For what it's worth, Eric, I greatly appreciate your trust." Those all-green eyes were studying his face. "You are upset," said Sap. "Perhaps you do not share my humour at our situation. I apologise."

  "Sap, you do have a plan, right? Another way off the planet?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Eric concentrated on his breathing, silently counting between breaths as he worked to calm himself. "Okay," he exhaled. "I can't believe we let that dog take our place on the ship. Did you hear what the people were saying?"

  Sap frowned, shaking his head. "Those poor children were hysterical. I couldn't bear to see them leave their pet behind. They would have been scarred forever."

  "Instead, they'll grow up thinking that they saw two men die for their pet."

  Sap cocked his head to one side. "I doubt it. Humans are selfish when it comes to self-preservation." Sap noticed something past Eric, and walked out into the concourse. He stepped calmly through the sea of luggage and debris.

  Over Eric's head, the departure board continued to flash its list of nonexistent flights. The bland music paused; with a crackle, it began to play the same tune again.

  Eric leaned his head back, loudly exhaling toward the ceiling. From the day he'd met Sap — back when he was still in the Navy — he'd been attracted to the Dosh mechanic. Sap was kind, calm, and utterly unflappable; nothing ever upset him. But before the day was over, Eric was going to strangle him.

  "Where the hell are you going now, Sap?"

  Up ahead, Sap didn't look back; he merely pointed one arm out in front of him, toward a garish red sign at the opposite end of the concourse.

  Eric shook his head. "Seriously, Sap? Coffee?" He started across the concourse, stumbling past spilled suitcases and overturned security tables. Up ahead, Sap strode toward the coffee shop, seemingly immune to the obstacles on the floor.

  When Eric arrived at the counter, Sap was behind it, putting out two clean mugs. He picked up a carafe and smiled, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "It is still hot," he said. As he poured, he held up two fingers on his free hand. "'Double double'? Two creams, two sugars?"

  "What?" sputtered Eric. "Now's not the time, Sap. It's really, really not the time."

  Mug in one hand, Sap had turned his attention to the payment terminal. "This is on me," he said.

  "You're paying?"

  Sap looked up, his brow ridge lifted in surprise. "Yes?"

  Eric just shook his head as he reached for his mug. "Any moment now, the Horlan will arrive and destroy everything, and here you are paying for abandoned coffee."

  "Planetary destruction is not an excuse," chided Sap. "Besides, we have plenty of money." He waved his credit chip at the terminal. It responded with an appreciative chirp. "There. If the network manages to connect, the merchant might some day see that he sold two coffees on an empty planet." Sap's toothy smile reappeared. "He will spend years wondering about that."

  Eric took a tentative sip, holding the mug in his unsteady hands. Overhead, the clock beeped, its electronic way of striking the hour. It was noon already.

  "Sap, we don't have a whole lot of time. You said we had another way out of here, even though the staff insisted there were no more ships coming. For the love of all that's holy, will you please tell me what's going on?"

  Sap just nodded, lips peeling back as he inhaled the coffee's steam. "One moment," he mumbled. His eyes fluttered shut, a serene calm washing over his features. Yellow patches ap
peared on the skin over his temples.

  Eric let out a loud sigh. Sap's sense of humour had become darker, especially since the war started. There were times when it drove him mad. He trusted Sap; Sap had never let him down, not once. When he'd left the Navy, when they'd come here together, when they'd bought the plantation; Sap had been wise and fair and dependable. But this was too much. They had stayed behind on a doomed planet; the Horlan would be here any moment. He took a breath to speak. "Sap," he said, an edge to his voice.

  Two green eyes slid open. "Eric, three hundred and four people got on that last ship—"

  "Yes, yes. And one dog. So what?"

  "Indeed. And one very nice dog named 'Buster'." Sap took another deep breath of the coffee's steam. "The ship was a Milwaukee-class freighter. Total cargo area is one hundred and seventy-nine square metres."

  Eric started doing the math in his head. That didn't seem like a lot of space. "Oh."

  Sap nodded. "Almost two people per square metre of floor space. The air scrubbers on a Milwaukee are rated for a hundred people in an emergency, and the water supply for less than that. Also, there is only one toilet." Sap took a sip. "Eight days to Earth."

  Eric made a face as his imagination served up thoughts of a squalid ship. "By the time they get to Earth, that ship will be hellish."

  "Being harvested by the Horlan seems like an attractive alternative—"

  "No it doesn't, Sap."

  Sap's shoulders went up and down, in an approximation of a shrug. "Perhaps not. Do you remember that satellite link I set up yesterday?"

  "What does that have to do with… you mean that satellite you hacked into yesterday?"

  "At this point, it makes little difference. Just now, while you were helping them try to coax 'Buster' onto the freighter, my datapad alerted me to a ship coming in to land."

  Eric's heart skipped a beat, as his mind was flooded with questions. "What? Another ship? Why didn't I see it? Where is it? Did it land here?"

  Sap nodded. "It did. I saw it land. It will not be taking off again, not for another two hours. Probably longer."

  Eric held one hand up in front of him, trying to slow Sap down. "Wait, wait. Two hours? How do you know all this? Why are we waiting here?" It seemed like such a specific estimate. Sap had to know something. He wanted to grab Sap by the lapels and shake some detailed answers out of him. "Well? And?" he prompted.

  "It was a Nova-class light freighter. From the configuration of the exhaust, it has an after-market reactor, probably a Collingwood." Sap paused, taking another sip of his coffee. He peered down into the cup, frowning.

  "And?" Eric was close to reaching out and strangling that ridged neck.

  "There was steam venting from the starboard-side relief nozzles. The reactor has a failed plasma coil; it must have happened recently. The reactor will be unable to achieve full power until the coil is replaced."

  "So they can't take off?"

  "Not yet. With the correct part, it is a two-hour job."

  "Is that two hours for you, Sap? Or for a normal person?"

  "For me." He took another sip. "And I'll have you know, I am a normal person."

  "So… what if they don't have the part?"

  "In that case, they will need an expert to advise them on their options." Sap finished his coffee. Handling the mug with both hands like an object of veneration, he set it down on the counter. "That coffee was uninspired; it had no theme. We'll get a better cup later." Green eyes looked from Eric to his mug and back again. "Are you almost done, Eric? We should go introduce ourselves to the crew of that disabled freighter. I expect they will be… anxious."

  * * *

  It had been a long, brisk walk along the concourse, and the glow of daylight beckoned from the starport entrance ahead. Eric paused at the entrance door, his fingers on the glass. He remembered the day they'd arrived on this colony, not even a year ago. It had been thrilling, leaving his regimented life behind to be with Sap. So many possibilities had lay ahead.

  Then the war had come, and all those possibilities were a jumbled mess, like all the cars crowded outside. Some were parked in neat rows, but others had been abandoned, with increasing desperation, on lawns and walkways. One was lodged in a fountain, where water gurgled from underneath the vehicle. An entire colony of twenty thousand people, all trying to get away, everyone moving with growing panic and frustration as the number of outgoing ships dwindled.

  All this in two days.

  Sap's red reflection appeared in the glass next to his. Even though he knew Sap was there, the rumbling voice still startled him. "Regrets, Eric?"

  Eric tried to muster a grin. "Nah. If I was still in the Navy, I'd be out there fighting right now. Probably already dead, the way things are going."

  "Instead," said Sap, "you chose to leave the military and be a coffee-bean farmer."

  "Yeah. It was…" he shrugged. "Something I wanted to do."

  Sap nodded sagely. "Something you wanted to do." His toothy smile reappeared. "It has been a good year, Eric. I have very much enjoyed your company. Were it not for the Horlan, we would have had more time. We would have become rich, too. Four hundred billion Dosh, all waiting to discover humanity's gift to the galaxy."

  "But your government thinks coffee is addictive to Dosh."

  "They just need to try it."

  Eric stifled a laugh. "Look, Sap, I don't know how this ends, but whatever happens—"

  Sap's eyes grew wide. "Whatever happens?" He shook his head. "Oh no, my dear Eric, it is not being left to chance." Sap took Eric by one arm. "Come, you have been standing still for too long, and are becoming melancholy. Let us go. The repair hangars are this way."

  Taking a moment to glance at signs on the walls, Sap chose a direction and pulled Eric along, making a straight line for a nearby hallway. Eric let Sap guide him by the arm, threading their way past security stations and around the abandoned luggage. Some of the cases were spilled onto the floor, as though their owners had made a last desperate search for some memento or heirloom to take with them.

  Eric thought about all those people: they would spend eight days in a cramped, stinking freighter, then they'd be herded into a refugee camp somewhere on Earth. They'd wind up living in emergency shelters in the sweltering heat of the homeworld. Last he'd heard, over seven million refugees had arrived at Earth in the past week alone. But that was before the Horlan had started to move again. This time, Eric and Sap's colony had been in the direction of the enemy's advance. Once the evacuation order had arrived, he'd stopped paying attention to news from the rest of the galaxy. Eric shook his head. "I still can't believe we let a dog go instead of us."

  "I like dogs," said Sap. He peeked through an open security door. "I would like for us to have one someday. My world has no equivalent. There is no animal that we keep in our homes — and feed, and clean up after — merely for companionship. My people think it is odd." He pulled the door open. "They need to meet dogs."

  A thought came to Eric's mind, and it made him smile in spite of it all. "What do you suppose those people will say about us? About the two guys who volunteered to stay behind so that their children could take their dog? Will they think it's some sort of noble sacrifice?"

  Sap was halfway up the hallway, and was peeking into side rooms. "They will think we were idiots."

  "Oh," said Eric, his smile fading.

  "I believe in the idea of noble sacrifice, but I will nonetheless make every effort to avoid the 'sacrifice' part if I can—”

  Sap came to a sudden halt, holding up one hand.

  Eric froze, and then he heard it too: a sharp clanging, as of metal striking metal. It was close, and he felt the sound through his gritted teeth.

  Sap turned around to whisper to him. "We should be cautious until we have an idea how they will react to us."

  "I'm the human," whispered Eric. "They might be less suspicious of me. I'll go forward and listen for a bit, before we introduce ourselves." Eric stepped past Sap and approached
the half-open door at the far end of the hallway.

  There were people speaking; he could hear the muffled bass tones of one voice, occasionally answered by another, higher-pitched voice. Probably a man and a woman. From the cadence of the voices — each interrupting and speaking over the other — Eric suspected they were having an argument. He edged closer to the doorway. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Sap was close behind, the only sound being the rustle of his ever-present red overcoat. Sap's brow was deeply lined in concentration, but he managed a brief smile when their eyes met.

  As Eric crept along the hall toward the door, the voices became clearer; he could make out what they were saying. "No, no," said the man. The voice sounded strained, like he was on the edge of losing his patience. "You're not listening to me. We don't want those ones; they won't work."

  The woman responded with a loud sigh, her tone on the verge of frustration. "Damn it Jerry, I'm telling you, these ones will work—"

  Through the half-open door, Eric could see the back of the hangar. Shelves and workbenches lined the rear wall, loaded down with tools and starship parts. Some of it he recognised as the guts out of sublight engines and FTL drives. Tools were resting on benches, as if the mechanics had only stepped away for a moment.

  Somewhere to Eric's left, behind the door, light spilled into the hangar. The big hangar doors must be open. No sense locking the place if you're the last one out. Not today.

  Eric leaned farther forward, into the narrow opening, trying to see the front of the hangar.

  A single electronic chirp came from his pocket, where he had put his datapad. It wasn't very loud, but it might as well have been a fire alarm. The arguing voices stopped.

  Oh fuck. Hell of a time to get a message.