The Last Roman (Praetorian Series - Book One) (59 page)

The only reason he was even down here was because
the ISLAND’s Senior Systems Officer had identified a small power
drain that originated in the very spot Dhaval now occupied, one
that threatened the ship’s next WeT Jump. Such a problem hadn’t
arisen in the thirty five years since Dhaval had been conscripted
to work aboard the
Sierra Madre
, but it wasn’t Dhaval’s
position to question how such a problem had arisen. His job was
simply to fix the broken conduit and bring the conduction shaft
back to peak efficiency. All he cared about was that the one
hundred year old power box he was currently manhandling seemed
repairable. He pulled a data cable from his chest rig and jacked it
into a port that seemed like it would accommodate the plug. Numbers
and figures poured across the Lens in front of his left eye, most
of which was meaningless gibberish even for someone as experienced
as Dhaval, but he comprehended enough to tell him it was at least
fixable.

Just as Dhaval thought he had enough information to
begin, he heard a loud metallic bang above him that reverberated
through the shaft. It was repeated a number of times before ending
just as suddenly as it began. It sounded like someone carelessly
knocking over machinery as they moved through the area.

“Hello?” Dhaval called into the darkness, knowing he
was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t been sure what he’d heard, but
it sounded distinctly like moving people. “Hello?” He repeated. “Is
anyone there?”

Only silence answered him.

Dhaval shrugged and eyed the darkness above him one
last time before returning to his work.

You’re getting paranoid in your old age, Dhaval.

He shifted in his seat and got comfortable on his
perch, locking his exo-suit into a comfortable sitting position for
a long repair job. The
Sierra Madre
wasn’t due to depart on
its two year voyage for another nine hours, and Dhaval had no idea
how long this was going to take. The last thing he wanted to do was
report a failure to Ship Master Na and risk delaying the ISLAND’s
departure time. This was the young woman’s first voyage as ship
master of an ISLAND Liner, and rumor had it that she was as
ruthless as she was new to the position. Upsetting her would not
bode well for even a veteran like Dhaval Jaheed, for no matter how
good he was, he was still an Indian aboard an ISLAND – little more
than a slave on a farm.

Earth /

Havana, Cuba /

ISLAND Departure Spaceport /

11.06.2595

08:00:00 Zulu

In a time of great prosperity, the most obvious
course of action is towards progress.

Growth.

Modernization.

To build towards the future and create a utopia of
high tech splendor.

It’s what happened in the days following the end of
Earth’s population crisis and later economic boom that came with
the advent of interstellar trade and colonization. Cities across
the globe became shining, glimmering metropolises of glass and
light, more beautiful than ever, but not Havana, Cuba. Its
spaceport was the sole means of transportation to the High Earth
Orbit ISLAND Docking Facility in the western hemisphere, and a
prosperous city because of it, but it appeared little more than a
dirty small town on the cusp of social annihilation.

At least that’s how it seemed like to Carl Lawson as
he sat in a local cantina, waiting for the departure time for his
shuttle to arrive. The seedy bar was something out of a Western
vid, an entertainment genre made famous once again after centuries
in obscurity. It was a setting that belonged in a museum, like the
one Lawson had in fact seen at the Cleveland Museum of Ancient
American History when he was eight years old. The only difference
being the lack of holographic personifications of living, breathing
humans performing any number of mundane, yet clichéd tasks like
bartending, piano and card playing, wenching, and the like. This
bar was authentic, with real live people enjoying the relaxed,
stress free setting in which Havana still exuded. On any other day,
Lawson probably could have died content as he sat amongst fellow
travelers in seek of a cold
cerveza
, but life was never
completely stress free, especially not with his folks visiting to
see him off.

“This isn’t what you want to do,” his father, John
Lawson, said from across the table. “ISLANDs only come back to
Earth every three years.”

“About two actually,” Carl Lawson replied, not
understanding his parents sudden desire to dissuade him from
leaving. He ignored his father and turned towards the bartender.
“
Señor, una cerveza mas, por favor
.” The bartender nodded
and tossed him a can of beer and Lawson couldn’t help but
smile.

Where has this place been all my life?

“But you won’t know anybody,” his mother, Eileen,
chimed in with her ever chipper voice. “All your friends and family
are on Earth, not to mention your friends in the military.”

Outwardly, his mother was the sweet and caring type
you’d find in any homestead across the galaxy, but Carl had known
the truth behind it since he was a toddler. Underneath that façade
of motherly kindness was the attitude of a woman who simply didn’t
give a shit, and only kept up her disguise to fit in with societal
pressures. The fact that she still treated him like a child,
instead of the forty five year old man that he was, said something
about her. She was the kind of person who would shop for yet
another needless product to sooth her own fickle desires on her
Lens’ Inter-Lens Service, while maintaining only the barest
semblance of attention during what someone else would consider a
very personal conversation.

“Mom,” Carl said with a sigh. “Why do you think I’m
even doing this? The only actual friend I have left is coming with
me, so why stay.”

The statement wasn’t a question, and he didn’t
expect his mother to answer anyway. Not because she knew it hadn’t
been a question, but because he knew she didn’t actually care.

John Lawson ignored his wife and pressed on. “You
realize, son, that if you leave, you’ll be doing little more than
admitting your own guilt and running away in shame?”

Carl turned away from his mother, who no longer
seemed interested, fixating her attention instead on the young
Cuban bartender whose biceps were at risk of bursting through the
sleeves of tropical style shirt. He fixed his father with a stern
gaze and lowered his voice.

“Is that why you’re here? To convince me to stay on
a world that would rather see me hung by the gallows because the
firing squad would be too quick? There’s nothing left for me here.
At least if I go, I can visit in a few years when things have
quieted down. In time… who knows? Maybe I’ll be able to return one
day.”

“No one is saying you should go on the Lens and draw
attention to yourself, son, but if you stay and lead a quiet life,
at least you can say you kept your honor intact and stood your
ground.”

“Whose honor exactly am I protecting? Yours or mine?
Better be careful, dad. You don’t want to be taken off the list of
all those holiday parties you’re always invited to.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I’m past caring about
whether what happened was your fault or not, but our reputation has
already been blemished by all this as it is, and the only thing you
can do to repair it is to stare your accusers in the face and
refuse to admit defeat.”

“I already did that. Don’t you remember when they
stripped me of my rank and all my accomplishments and held me up as
an example to save face with the Chinese? No, I did my part thank
you much. I think I’m well and done with all that bullshit.”

John Lawson folded his arms and glared at his son,
watching as Carl swallowed that last of his beer.

“Don’t do this, Carl. Don’t expect a home to come
back to if you do.”

Carl smirked at his father and picked up his travel
bag before getting to his feet and throwing some anachronistic
monetary coins down on the table. Physical money may have been
extinct on Earth for centuries now, but for those traveling to the
outer colonies, it was a necessity, not to mention for those few
who knew to stop at this lovely hole-in-the-wall before departure.
“Don’t worry, father. I haven’t been coming back to one since the
day you tried to save your
own
face in all this at no one’s
expense but my own.”

With nothing left to say to his father, he reached
out and grabbed his mother’s arm before passing by her. He leaned
down and gave her a kiss on the cheek, knowing he’ll miss her
despite all her faults. “Say goodbye to Lilly for me, mom.”

Eileen flicked her eyes away from her beefcake
pretty for just a second. “Oh, your sister will miss you terribly.
Won’t that help you cha…”

“Goodbye, mom.”

“Oh, well, goodbye, dear.” She turned back to her
lustful desire and said nothing else.

Lawson looked back at his parents, now both ignoring
him for completely different reasons. He couldn’t believe it had
come to this. His own parents had turned their backs on him in a
time when he needed them the most. When the entire world was
against him, he should have been able to turn to them and expect
comfort and reassurance, but no such sentiment existed, and he was
on his own.

Carl Lawson versus the universe.

He turned and headed towards the door, stopping only
briefly to take in the surreal atmosphere of one of the most unique
places he’d ever visited. With a nod of approval he walked out into
the dusty streets and turned north towards the only sign of
progress and hope as far as the eye could see: the spaceport.

And his future.

High Earth Orbit /

ISLAND
Liner
Sierra
Madre
– Green Zone
/

Command Deck – Bridge /

11.06.2595

08:35:16 Zulu

“Ship’s status?”

“All indicators save one show green, ma’am.”

“What’s the situation in Power Conduction Shaft –
Delta? Are we on still on schedule?”

“Senior Chief of Electronics Jaheed is on it ma’am.
His controller indicates he should have the problem locked down
well before our time of departure.”

“Good,” Ship Master Mei-Xing Na replied behind a
cool smile, pleased at her new crew’s performance.

She abhorred incompetency – a cancer that had to be
rooted out of as soon as it was discovered – and would not have
been pleased with lackluster personnel. Whether her perfectionism
was a byproduct of her Chinese ancestry or her own tenacity for
perfection was anyone’s guess, but she knew that her own personal
level of expectation came from hard work and a selfless dedication
to the fruition of her life’s goals, and today would mark her first
steps towards fulfilling her destiny. Today, she would take her
first voyage as the ship master of an ISLAND Liner, and she wasn’t
about to let incompetency blemish such a step.

“Ship Master,” another voice called out from her
right. “Docking Control has indicated the first wave of shuttles
are on approach. We should expect our first class passengers to
arrive within the hour.”

Mei-Xing nodded, but a sneer crossed her face at the
continued use of the Common language amongst her crew. It was an
excessively antiquated speech, an ugly speech, burdened and
littered with the drivels of the old English language.

It may have been the language of international
trade, commerce, and cooperation centuries ago, but the galaxy is
so much bigger now!
She thought.
With Chinese as the
dominant language on more planets than any other, isn’t it time for
us to speak our own language, with our own people, on our own
ships?

She frowned. There was little hope to be found in
such thoughts. The Americans were still too heavily involved in
galactic affairs for Common to just go away, even if all they’d
been reduced to was a security guard for planet Earth. There was
also the problem that while all ISLANDs were crewed by Chinese,
they were still staffed by their subservient Indians, creating yet
another language barrier. Mei-Xing sighed to herself. Common was
taught to every new born baby alongside their own native languages.
There was no changing that now.

No matter how disgusting it felt on Mei-Xing’s
tongue.

“Ship Master?” The voice spoke again.

“Very good, Mister Chen,” She said, glancing at the
chronograph in the upper right hand corner of the oval Lens
situated in front of her left eye.

08:36:02.

Only about a minute late. She supposed that was
within even her standard of punctuality, especially considering how
complex the last twenty four hours before an ISLAND launch was.

She blinked and sent a slight mental nudge towards
her Lens, and a visual feed of the docking bay sprang into view.
She saw the deck crew scurrying about with guidance lights in their
hands, red carpets sprawled along the deck to help facilitate the
boarding of travelers, and concierges, ready at the beck and call
of any passenger to set foot aboard the
Sierra Madre
.

Good, good.

With another mental nudge, the Lens feed shifted
back to her To-Do-List, which she kept as her default setting. She
checked off the numbered event concerning the arrival of passengers
and looked at the next thing on the list. She already knew what it
was, but the internal comfort of continuously checking her lists
gave her piece of mind. Item number five for the day was to rest
until 14:00:00 when the next item on her list came about. It was
barely nine o’clock in the morning, but she’d already been on the
bridge for nine hours performing the ISLAND’s pre-flight check
lists with her bridge crew. Feeling weariness creeping in, she
stood from her command chair and surveyed the bridge.