The Crucible: Leap of Faith (11 page)

Not only was the camp afraid, but
Central Command were swooping down on them.

Amy didn’t know a great deal about
the internal structure of the Star Forces – it was a topic she’d
always chosen to stay away from – but this didn’t seem right.
Didn’t the Central Command deal with threats to the whole Milky
Way?

According to Hargrove, Central
Command were even sending another ship to ‘help,’ as he’d put
it.

She didn’t understand. Though
Weatherby’s death had been unfortunate and regrettable, why would
they need another detachment of the Star Forces? Surely one ship
was enough. She’d only asked for military assistance in the first
place because they had better matter scanners than she could
source, and it would be easier to monitor the dig site from their
scout ship.

She was currently standing on one
of the hover lifts as it descended into the cavern.

The dig had halted.

News Central
Command were sending the
Armadale
had now spread. She had no idea what kind of ship
that was, but some of her research staff seemed to think it was a
big deal.

Amy hadn’t always had the best
interpersonal skills – they got in the way of research. She could
still pick up on emotion though, and she understood her staff were
scared stiff.

She let her gaze flick towards the
solid metal wall at the opposite side of the cavern. Her hover lift
was agonizingly slow. She’d had to buy it with her meagre grant
money. It was the same with the scaffolding that was now
crisscrossed against the great wall.

It was all cheap and nasty, and
her engineer had to keep repairing it – much to his
irritation.

So her trip down to the bottom of
the cavern was agonizingly slow. She let her gaze scan her once
buzzing dig. Now all her staff were huddled in the main camp. Her
ocular implants were acting up, but even from here she could see
that their shoulders were all hunched in.

With a terse exclamation, she
pushed her glove over her helmet. She was still in a suit. In fact,
she’d taken the opportunity to change into her mech suit. With a
hardened exterior built for extreme pressures, it acted more like
armor. It was bloody uncomfortable and stifling, though; it felt
like you were walking around in a metal coffin. But it was solid
and safe.

And she wanted to feel safe right
now.

Though she kept telling her staff
that everything was fine and that what had happened to Weatherby
was just an isolated incident… she couldn’t push away her own fear.
Not entirely. It clung to her like a fine mist on an autumn
morning.

Every movement she made was
quicker and less smooth than usual. There was a constant niggling
at the base of her spine, too.

Sighing through frustration –
angry at herself more than anything – she swiped a hand over her
helmet again.

The delicate work of this dig
sight did not call for a mech suit, but she wouldn’t take it
off.

Her gaze drew towards the wall one
last time.

It was mesmerizing. She’d never
seen anything like it.

…

Ensign Jenks

I was on
maintenance duty. It seemed that my skills – or lack thereof –
would not be utilized on the
Ra’xon
.

I’d been given one of the simplest
tasks my superior could think of – a proximity scan. My task was to
scan certain sectors of the ship with a handheld device, so that
information could be compared with the ship’s internal scanners. If
there was any discrepancy, the internal scanners should be
recalibrated.

It was boring work and considered
menial, but that didn’t bother me.

It would give me
a chance to become better acquainted with the
Ra’xon
. It may even help me locate
areas that could be hiding Omega class weapons. Though I doubted I
would detect them with a hand scanner, I may be able to find areas
of interest.

I threw myself into the task, glad
for the simple distraction.

I slowly made my way around the
various sectors of the ship. She really was massive. It was easily
the largest vessel I’d ever served on.

It was, however, not the largest
vessel I had ever travelled on.

Professor Axis’ facility was
aboard the Alliance’s greatest starship. One barely anyone knew
about. Its existence was a top secret amongst the Star Forces
Central Command.

It was called
the
Miracle.
And
it was anything but.

It was where Professor Axis and
the other stooges of the Alliance conducted their most secret,
illegal, and inhumane experiments. Far from prying eyes.

I barely had to concentrate on my
task as I walked, keeping a slow step as I methodically scanned a
wall to my side. With a distracted gaze, I looked at my reflection
in the shiny panel before me.

I looked at least 10 years older
than I was. But I felt at least 50 years older than that. To think,
only five short years ago I had been filled with the passion and
hope of a new recruit.

Now there was nothing left but
bitter anger at what had happened to me.

I turned a corner and entered the
next room I had to scan. It had a small viewing portal and a single
small red couch. I’d already overheard a few crew referring to it
as the lovers’ seat.

It was currently occupied. Not by
a couple, but by none other than Lieutenant Commander Nathan
Shepherd.

He barely looked up as I entered,
then, as if realizing who I was, he snapped his gaze my
way.

There was a definite haunted edge
to his expression. Though I tried to reason it was stress over
losing his ship, he looked far worse than when I had seen him
last.

His cheeks were pale, lips softly
turned into a weak frown, his gaze as dead as the wastelands of
space.

Maybe I gazed at him too long,
because he cleared his throat, mistakenly believing I wished to
converse with him.

“What are you doing here?” he
asked quietly.

I brought my scanner up and
gestured with it. “We are recalibrating the internal
scanners.”

“Fun,” he managed. Then, rather
than asking me questions relentlessly, he hunched his shoulders in,
clasped his hands roughly in his lap, and stared at the floor. Not
the view of the stars streaking past as we travelled beyond light
speed, but his hands. He paid especial attention to his thumbs as
he rolled them over one another. You would think that the secrets
of the universe were written there in every whorl and
mark.

I frowned.

If it were up to me, I would’ve
turned around and walked out. But it was critical that I scan each
section of the ship in order.

So I had no option but to return
to my work.

Though this room was small, my
scans had to be meticulous. I would take a slow step every five
seconds or so, sometimes having to double back on
myself.

Soon I walked in front of the
window, compromising the Lieutenant Commander’s view. It didn’t
matter; he was still staring at his hands.

My gaze kept flicking towards him,
even though I should have been paying attention to what I was
doing.

“…
How have you been going?” he
asked suddenly.

I wasn’t expecting his question.
He seemed so pulled in by his own troubles, it was a surprise he
remembered I was in the room with him.

“I’m fine, sir.” I didn’t turn
back to my scanner. For the briefest of seconds, I got the urge to
enquire how he was.

The answer was obvious. He wasn’t
okay. You didn’t need to be a counsellor to see how much pressure
he was under from his posture as he sat there, and how much obvious
stress crumpled his brow and haunted his gaze.

“How are you adjusting to the
ship?” he asked, finally tearing his gaze off his hands.

I’d been staring at his hands too,
and quickly looked away. “It has only been a day and a
half.”

“Yeah,” he admitted in a soft
tone, “it feels like longer.”

“…
How is
the
Godspeed
?” I
asked. I shouldn’t have engaged him in conversation. I kept telling
myself that I wanted nothing more than to get away from this man
and his incessant questions. And yet I still
asked.

He let his gaze
drift over the view until it slowly returned to me. “She’s
salvageable. The crew are fine, or at least they’ll heal. No
deaths,” his voice appeared to crumple on the word
deaths.

“…
That’s good,” I managed. I’d
stopped scanning without even realizing it, and my device suddenly
gave a beep encouraging me to take another step forward.

I complied. I paid attention to
the scanner for almost five seconds before letting my gaze slide
towards him once more.

He was staring at his thumbs
again.

I tried to think of a question to
ask. Again, I had no idea why I was willingly engaging this man in
conversation.

Or maybe I did know.

It was because of how sad he
looked. Yes, he was a lieutenant commander and I was nothing but an
ensign, and yes, he was a member of the Star Forces and a champion
of the Alliance.

But I couldn’t ignore his sorrow,
no matter how hard I tried.

“Lieutenant Commander,” I
began.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

I opened my mouth.

I didn’t get the chance to ask my
question.

A lieutenant
walked in. Annabelle Williams. She’d served aboard the
Fargo
with
me.

I’d barely had any interaction
with her, and she didn’t even glance my way as she walked in.
Instead she locked all of her attention on the Lieutenant
Commander. “Nathan, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she
said, concern crumpling her brow.

Though I’d never had much to do
with Lieutenant Williams, I knew from experience she was a woman
who rarely showed emotion. She was known as a very strict
officer.

She always strictly followed
regulations too, and regulations would have her refer to the
Lieutenant Commander by his title, not his first name.

“Why did you need to see me?” the
Lieutenant Commander asked, not pulling her up on the use of his
first name.

Clearly they knew each
other.

I watched their interaction out of
the corner of my eye.

Annabelle suddenly swiveled her
gaze towards me. “Do you mind?”

“She’s doing a sensor calibration
scan. She’s doing her job,” he added, as if that wasn’t
clear.

Lieutenant Williams didn’t react.
Instead she sat down next to the Lieutenant Commander.

At first I automatically assumed
that they were a couple. Though it was frowned upon for the crew of
the same vessel to become romantically attached, you couldn’t stamp
it out completely. As long as it didn’t affect your work, most
officers wouldn’t pull the crew up on it.

The Lieutenant Commander didn’t
react well to Williams sitting so closely, though. He shifted back,
shooting me an uncomfortable look.

“We need to talk about the
mission,” Williams said.

“Not in a public place, we don’t,”
he chided quickly.

Williams slid her gaze towards me
again, and was clearly dismissive. “How long until you’re
finished?”

“Approximately five minutes and 46
seconds. In this room, at least,” I answered.

“Great,” Williams nodded. “Is
there somewhere else we can talk?” She returned her attention to
the Lieutenant Commander.

“I was kind of busy actually,” he
said.

The Lieutenant’s delicate brow
crumpled. “Doing what? Staring at the view? I’d hazard a guess
there’s a better one in your quarters.”

The Lieutenant Commander cleared
his throat immediately.

“Not like that,” Williams blushed.
“Can we just go somewhere and talk?”

“Like I said, I’m
busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Chatting to the Ensign here,” he
answered.

I drove my teeth into my bottom
lip. Why would he say something like that? Was he trying to blow
Williams off? But why would he use me as an excuse?

Lieutenant Williams slowly looked
from me to the Lieutenant Commander, her confusion obvious. She
quickly returned her attention to the Lieutenant Commander. “Fine.
I get it, you don’t want to talk now. But please,” her voice dipped
low, shaking for some reason, “come and see me when you get the
chance.” With that she rose, shot me one last confused look, and
walked out.

The Lieutenant Commander waited
for her to leave before he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let
out a relieved breath. “Thanks for that,” he managed.