Dark Space: Origin Page 11

  “Shhh,” Ethan whispered back. “Now’s not the time.”

  Hoff watched them from the bar with cold, seething gray eyes, and Ethan read into that look that if it were up to him, he would have dumped them both out the nearest air lock as soon as he’d found them.

  Ethan met that look with equal fury, but his anger was fast cooling into shock, leaving a numb sense of defeat in its wake. There was nothing left for him to fight for. Here Hoff was, living the life he should have had. Atton was right, they’d been replaced. All those years spent waiting for his wife, and she hadn’t waited for him. He should have felt jealous, but instead he just felt stupid. Now, he finally understood that Alara had been right: Destra would have wanted him to move on, but it was too late. Alara barely remembered him now, and the friction-filled relationship they’d had as pilot and copilot was as long gone as the beaten up freighter they’d flown.

  Ethan had missed his chance for a fresh start, but Destra had seized hers the second it had come along. Atta was seven years old. He and Destra had been apart for ten. That meant she’d waited less than three years.

  Three . . .

  In his mind’s eye Ethan saw the three of them—Atton, himself, and Destra all lying on a couch in front of their fireplace to keep warm one wintry night on Roka IV. Outside, the wind whistled ferociously, driving snow against the windows. Atton crawled over them under the blankets, trying to get comfortable.

  Suddenly, Tibby’s furry head popped out of the blankets, followed by a childish roar.

  Ethan feigned shock, yelling out, “Ahh! Don’t eat me, Tibby!”

  Atton giggled and popped up behind his stuffed diger. “Scared you!”

  “Thank the Immortals you’re here, Atton!” Destra said. “Tell Tibby not to eat us!”

  “No, he’s going to eat you both! Rarr!”

  “Oh, no!” Destra replied. “But then you won’t have any parents. Who will look after you?”

  “Tibby and me can look after ourselves!”

  Ethan frowned. “That’s not nice, Atton.”

  “Sit properly,” Destra added.

  Atton was quiet for a long minute, and then they heard a small voice say, “Tibby didn’t mean it. He just wanted to scare you.”

  “Mmm,” Destra replied, not sounding convinced. “And what about you?”

  “I didn’t mean it either.”

  “You know, Atton,” Ethan began, “we just have the three of us in this galaxy. We have to stick together and look after each other.”

  “What about Tibby?” Atton replied.

  “The three of us and Tibby,” Destra said, smiling at him and tousling his hair. “And speaking of you and Tibby, aren’t you both supposed to be in bed?”

  “No.” Atton shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  “Dad said we have to look after each other, so we’re not leaving you alone, are we Tibby? No, he says we have to protect you from the snow monsters.”

  Ethan shook himself out of the memory. His eyes found Hoff’s as the admiral walked over from the bar with a frosty mug of beer in each hand. He handed one to each of them and then went back to the bar to fix a drink for himself.

  Ethan held his mug up to the light and gazed absently into the golden depths of the beer, fizz rising endlessly from the bottom of the frosted mug. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his son turn to him.

  “I don’t understand,” the boy whispered. “I’ve met the admiral on countless occasions. I knew he was married, but . . . I just can’t believe Mom was so close and I never found her! How is that possible?”

  Ethan shook his head and took a gulp of beer. He followed that down with another gulp and another until he felt a welcome numbness begin seeping through him. He hadn’t eaten in a while—they’d only brought him two meals during his time in the brig on the Defiant, and two more while he’d been left in the cold, dark makeshift holding area that they’d prepared aboard the Interloper—so the alcohol was hitting him hard.

  The admiral returned from the bar with his own selection, a fine cerulean wine. He sent Atton a tight smile as he sat down in the armchair opposite Ethan’s. “I don’t recall us ever having met,” Hoff said, proving that he’d heard Atton whispering.

  “It’s a long story, Admiral.”

  “Yes, I keep hearing about this story—so far it’s convenient, long, incredible . . . are there any more adjectives you’d like to add before you two start actually telling me what’s going on?”

  Atton opened his mouth to reply, but then they heard a girlish squeal of delight, and everyone turned to see Atta come running down the hallway where Destra had disappeared earlier.

  Ethan grimaced and took another gulp of his beer. Again he was struck by that little girl’s resemblance to his wife. Ex-wife, he corrected himself, and with that, he drained his mug and lay his head back against the chair. His eyes drifted shut and he let himself believe for a blissful moment that this was all just a horrible nightmare.

  I’m going to wake up any minute now, he told himself. Any minute now . . .

  Chapter 11

  Atta ran straight up to him with a big smile and gave him a hug. For a moment, Atton was taken aback and didn’t know where to put his hands. He held them out high above the girl as if she were some untouchable thing. Gradually he relaxed and returned the girl’s hug, patting her on the back with the hand not already holding his beer. Atta withdrew, still smiling, and then he noticed that she was holding a stuffed diger.

  Atton froze.

  A painful lump rose in his throat. He’d had a stuffed animal just like that when he was her age.

  “I’ve never had a brother,” Atta said while playing with the diger’s furry white ears.

  “I’ve never had a sister. . . .” Atton replied.

  “Well, you’re going to like me! I promise. Did you know it’s my birthday today?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Atton pointed to the stuffed diger, his eyes narrowing on the toy. “Did you get him for your birthday?”

  “No, that’s Mr. Tibbins. I’ve had him since I was a baby. He’s my friend.”

  Atton couldn’t bring himself to reply to that. Mr. Tibbins. He’d called his stuffed diger Tibby.

  “Atta . . .” Destra said rounding the couch to stand beside her daughter. “Sit quietly for a moment. Your brother is tired.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Atton’s gaze followed his sister and the stuffed animal to the other end of the couch where she hopped up and sat down. She began kicking her little feet, looking from one person to another until her gaze stopped on Ethan. “Who is he? Is he also my brother?”

  Destra laughed. “No, dear. He’s . . .” but she trailed off there, unable to finish her sentence.

  “I’m your uncle,” Ethan supplied.

  “An uncle and a brother in one day!” Atta exclaimed. “I’m a lucky girl. People don’t have family anymore. . . .” she said, looking down at Mr. Tibbins and picking at his fur. “Mom says that’s because of the skull faces. That’s why we don’t like them. I don’t like them because they’re scary.”

  Atton finally had enough. He rounded on his mother just as she sat down beside him. “Mr. Tibbins?”

  Destra smiled sadly back at him. “You still remember yours? You loved him so much.”

  “I lost him! The same day I lost you, in case you don’t remember—oh that’s right, you have Atta and Tibbins now, so you don’t have to remember us—and let’s not forget Hoff!” Atton’s heart beat furiously in his chest. His head felt light and airy with rage. He barely noticed as his mother placed her hand over his.

  “You might not understand this now,” she said, sniffling, “But it was my way of remembering you. You don’t know how many times I saw Atta or Mr. Tibbins and thought of you. I never forgot you, Atton. I found a way to cope.”

  “Frek, Mom!” Atton flicked her hand off his and stood up from the couch. “That’s it? After all this time—it’s nice to see you again, son, but as you
can see I replaced the life I lost. I’m sorry you never managed to replace yours.”

  “Atton . . .” Destra wiped fresh tears from her eyes, but Atton wasn’t buying the act.

  Hoff whispered to his daughter, telling her to go back to her room. She looked up at Atton with wide, frightened gray eyes. He turned to glare back at her.

  Atta bolted from the living room, crying as she ran.

  “Atton, she’s just a child!” Destra said.

  “So was I!” he roared.

  “Well, this is fun,” Hoff added. “As much as I like watching the two of you come storming into my life and breaking everything like a pair of rulls, you’d both better hurry up and explain yourselves before our recess ends and I have to return you to the trial room. Atton, I suggest you do what I’m doing now, and put your personal feelings aside long enough to straighten this mess out, or soon none of it is going to matter. I need a good reason not to have you both probed and then sentenced for your crimes.”

  Atton stared at Hoff, his chest rising and falling quickly with fury. He felt another hand touch his, but this time it was the rough hand of his father, urging him to sit back down. He turned and saw the defeated look on his father’s face. Somehow that brought him back to his senses. This wasn’t any easier for Ethan—probably harder—but he wasn’t screaming about it. Taking one more deep, calming breath, Atton let his rage go and sat down. He felt numb. “Where should I start?” he asked.

  “How about at the very beginning,” Hoff replied.

  Atton told them what he could remember of fleeing Roka IV in the middle of the night, of his mother handing him over to his Great Uncle Riechland to be taken to Dark Space with the fleet. He recounted a lonely, confusing first few weeks of being bounced from ship to ship as his caregivers constantly changed. Eventually he’d met the overlord, and the man had taken him in as his own son. That was when things had taken a turn for the better, but when he was just starting to get used to life as the overlord’s son, the old man had revealed his secret: he was a holoskinner only pretending to be the overlord. The real overlord had been killed during the war, and the man found to replace him had been his military adviser, Fleet Admiral Tate Lordin. Atton had been just fourteen when the admiral had revealed his secret. It had come as a rude shock, but then he’d realized that his adoptive father was the same person he’d always been, just with a different face. On his death bed, Admiral Lordin had asked him to take over as the overlord for a while, until a replacement could be found. That had been three years ago.

  Much more recently, during the battle they’d fought with Alec Brondi for the Valiant, Atton had discovered that his father was a holoskinner pretending to be a nova pilot named Adan Reese. It wasn’t long after that that he’d asked his father to take his place as the overlord. Ethan had reluctantly accepted the responsibility, and then a few days later he had been revealed by Dr. Kurlin and forcibly removed from the position.

  “I remember Admiral Lordin,” Heston said, rubbing his chin. “We thought he died during the war.”

  Atton nodded. “That was what he led everyone to believe before he took over for Dominic.”

  “So, Lordin planned the exodus to Dark Space—not Dominic.”

  Atton nodded. “He thought we were foolish to stand and fight as long as we did.”

  “He was right, but he was foolish to leave a kid in charge of the Imperium.”

  “That’s why I gave up the position to my father when I found him. I realized I didn’t have the experience to be the overlord.”

  Hoff barked a laugh. “But neither did your father! Another foolish decision!”

  Ethan’s eyes flashed, but he said nothing.

  “If what you say is true, then you’re just 17 now. I should be taking back that beer I gave you. At least you don’t look your age,” Heston said.

  “People used to say that to me all the time. I was done growing by the time the admiral showed me how to use the holoskins.”

  “Fine, but you do sound your age. Are you telling me no one got suspicious when you took over for Admiral Lordin?”

  “Some did, especially when I re-opened the gate and sent out scouts to see what had happened to the galaxy. As you know, we found you, and then we sent an expedition to the Getties where we met the Gors. I agreed to an alliance with them after they brought us High Lord Kaon.”

  Hoff smirked and a sarcastic gleam entered his eyes. “Yes, and then you invited your new friends into Dark Space so they could hold the door open for the entire Sythian armada!”

  “We’ve never had an enemy fleet come into Dark Space.”

  “That you know of. The same ones you’re trusting to tell you when the enemy arrives are the ones who can let them in.”

  “They’ve helped us to destroy hundreds of Sythian ships. Roughly a whole fleet—a seventh of their entire navy. Why would they do that if they’re not on our side?”

  “Maybe they didn’t need those ships anymore. They’re probably old and out of date. They sabotaged their own ships and then bailed out so you could rescue them. That sounds a lot like the skull faces were scuttling their ships to me.”

  “You’re just prejudiced because the Gors were the only visible face of the war, but I have news for you, Hoff, those skull faces, as you call them, are our only hope—whether you like it or not.”

  “No!” Hoff held up a finger. “No. Being patient and staying hidden is our only hope—not siding with the invaders.” The admiral turned to Destra and shook his head. “This boy of yours has krak between his ears, darling.”

  “Hoff!” Destra hissed. “Be nice.”

  “He’s endangered the lives of millions! And you want me to be nice?”

  “I only let two Gors into Dark Space, Hoff,” Atton replied, working hard to keep his cool. “Just Tova and Roan know where it is, and they don’t know exactly where. A passing Gor would have to make a telepathic connection with one of them and use that to track them down. Other than that, Tova and Roan can’t give us away—they’d have to steal encrypted star maps. We don’t give them access to that information.”

  “Well good for you. How hard do you think it is for an invisible spy to conduct espionage? I’ve spent a lot of time installing security systems on my ships which can detect cloaked Gors. Displacement sensors work well enough, but since you’re allied with the skull faces, I’m sure you haven’t felt it necessary to take precautionary measures like that.”

  Atton sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

  Heston shook his head. “No, what’s ridiculous is that the Gors are the sole proprietors of an undetectable, near-instantaneous communications system, and you’re trusting them not to give you away just because they’re limited to a ten light year radius. They could have given you away a thousand times by now and you’d never know!”

  “Dark Space is more than ten light years from the nearest solar system, so unless a Gor ship just happened to be wandering through the Stormcloud Nebula, it’s not an issue.”

  “You’re a very naïve young man. Now I understand why the overlord was making so many foolish decisions. He was you.”

  “Whatever,” Atton growled.

  “You don’t know a thing about the Gors!” Heston boomed. “No one does!”

  “We don’t know anything about the Sythians either,” Atton said. “What’s your point?”

  “Exactly! How do you know the Gors are really their slaves? Did you find any Sythians in the Getties and ask them? Kaon is the only one we’ve ever met.”

  “The expedition I sent was already low on fuel when they met the Gors. They couldn’t look further.”

  “That’s convenient for them. Have you sent another expedition yet?”

  “It took a whole year for the first one to return. We don’t have the fuel or time to waste on another long trip like that.”

  “Maybe you don’t.”

  Atton shook his head. “What are you saying?”

  Heston smiled. “I sent a whole fleet to the Getti
es, Atton—well, what passes for a fleet these days—and only one ship returned, the Interloper, but that’s because they can cloak. They went ahead to explore and gather intel, and when they returned, the fleet they’d travelled with was obliterated. No one even saw what killed them. That’s very convenient for the Gors’ story, don’t you think? You go to the Getties and return with the Gors for allies, and we’re sent straight to the netherworld.”

  “You should have just sent the Interloper.”

  “And wait years for them to return with their slower SLS? As it is they returned a year late because they had to fly back alone. They’ve only just returned a few weeks ago.”

  “Late would have been preferable to dead. You only have yourself to blame for that.”

  “Says the boy who let his entire crew be wiped out by a virus. Fifty thousand officers dead. How does that sit on your conscience? Or do you even have one?”

  “Enough!” Destra said. “That’s enough! I’m not going to watch the two of you fight—on today of all days! We’ve answered enough questions for now.”

  Atton turned to his mother. “Actually, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

  Destra blinked at him. “Such as?”

  “Such as why you didn’t come looking for us. You knew you’d sent me to Dark Space, and you knew Ethan was there even before the war. Why didn’t you come find us? Did you even try?”

  “I did look for you —” Her eyes skipped to Ethan. “—both of you. I found your death certificate, Atton. How did you survive that shuttle crash?”

  Atton grimaced and he felt ashamed. Of course she hadn’t found him. As of three years ago he’d been officially “dead” and already impersonating the supreme overlord of the Imperium.

  “As for your father,” Destra went on, “When I found him, he was with a beautiful young woman. I stayed a little while, just long enough to assume that they were together. Your father tells me they were just friends, but how was I to know? They stayed in the same rooms, flew the same ship, shared their food . . .”