The passage of time was both an eternity and a rapid blur for Sarah. She felt as though she had been fighting to survive, fighting to get answers, or just fighting against something for so long. She was exhausted. She could not remember the last time she had slept well, since she fell asleep the night after. She had awoken with a start aboard the dropship, the auto-pilot maintaining orbit above Kohara after completing the takeoff sequence. How long she had been drifting there she did not know, but the urge to vomit came over her swiftly as the events of the previous day came rushing back. Maxwell was gone. Michael was gone. Everyone she had come to Kohara with was dead. Sarah was alone… except for whatever it was that she had encountered in Kohara’s black jungle.
The hours were difficult to track aboard the dropship, as Sarah worked to pull herself together and trouble shoot the small craft’s communication equipment. In many ways it was not too dissimilar from the comm array of the research base, and she was able to open a long-range communication channel to broadcast an automated distress signal. Days, maybe even weeks passed before rescue came, as Sarah ate sparingly from the ship’s survival rations. Strangely, she could not remember if the rations tasted good, or bad. She remembered little at all from those dark moments. When the rescuers arrived, it was like the coming of dawn after a long, cold night of bad dreams. The official reports mentioned that Sarah was lethargic, muttering about strange figures, green lights, as well as rambling off a list of names. There was a brief flurry of activity as news spread about the event. An entire science team lost to some mysterious threat in the jungle. A strange planet made all the stranger by the tragic loss of life. For a brief moment, Sarah felt hope that one day she would get answers and be free of her grief. But then the red tape began. Investigative bodies needed more evidence. Planetary governments wanted more information. Press began to poke and prod at Sarah’s story. Some people claimed it a hoax, suggesting that Sarah had abandoned the mission after sabotaging the communications equipment, leaving her team stranded. Others suggested that the team never existed at all, and that Sarah was some runaway from Earth trying to get attention far from home.
All this struck Sarah as absurd. Why would people doubt her? Real people, people with friends and family, died down in the darkness of Kohara. Yet these families never surfaced. Minerva, the xeno-biology university she attended, claimed to have no record of her or the team she mentioned. The news clips of her story, the interviews with the rescue team, even the recorded accounts from Sarah herself, disappeared from the net. It was like she was being washed away. What was worse was that with each passing day, as she fought to be heard and to find answers, she began to wonder if she really was crazy. Had she dreamed it all? The only thing that kept her holding on was the burning image of Professor Maxwell disintegrating before her very eyes, too vivid to forget or unsee. This memory, and the strange sense that the wall crept in too quickly. It was all too convenient. Everything disappeared just as she needed it. Doors shut just as she reached them, paths closed up behind her. She felt like a wild insect caught in a predator’s web. The red tape closed in about her. Perhaps this is why Sarah was not surprised when she was contacted.
It was late in the evening. Sarah was in the nearly deserted waiting room of a small Homefront embassy belonging to the small backwater capital of a tiny Centauri system. She could not remember which one anymore. Her weeks had become a weary blur of waiting lines, forms, credentials, and the drone of bureaucratic employees. Was presenting her request for an interview from yet another Homefront political representative to an equally tired embassy intern. The poor intern was caught between genuine sympathy for the frantic woman and her own fatigue from being kept up at such a late hour working through a giant stack of paperwork. Sarah knew from experience that she was beginning to get stuck in the circle of tape which would lead to a dead end. She would need to book transport tickets to yet another system to try again. The funds she had been given from her family at home, funds that were supposed to be used to come home to visit so they could try again to persuade her to become a pilot instead of a scientist, were nearly dried up from hopping between embassies. Deep inside, Sarah was nearly ready to give up her hunt. Whoever it was that wanted to bury her had done so effectively. There was nothing left for her to chase, nothing left for her to find. Perhaps the time had come to let go, to surrender and allow herself to be buried and forgotten.
“You aren’t one to let something go, are you?” A voice said, as if answering her thought.
Sarah started. She had, in her weariness, mentally checked out. The intern was gone. The lights had been dimmed in the lobby. She glanced around, thinking that she had finally cracked and was hallucinating voices.
“Sorry, did I startle you?” The voice continued from behind her, “I was going to wait until you finished, but I got the sense that you weren’t on the planet anymore.”
Standing behind her, casually leaning against one of the eight decorative pillars that formed two lines across the large embassy lobby, was a main in a dark suit. “Physically, maybe, but your mind was in space. Wasn’t it?” He said, a wry smile lifting one side of his face. Dark shades hid his eyes from view, but something about him projected a warmth. Perhaps it was the low, smooth tones of his voice, tinged as it was with a faint accent, or perhaps it was the simple fact that this was the first time in a long time that Sarah spoke with someone other than a poor attendant behind a desk.
“I… I’m sorry, yes. It’s been a long day,” Sarah stammered, desperately trying to gather her scattered wits and rummage together a sentence, “I’m afraid the hour got the better of me and I was beginning to fall asleep on two feet.” Please don’t think I am a crazy person, she thought.
“No need to apologize, I’m the one who spoke without warning. I was just hoping we could have a conversation, you and I.” His tone was sympathetic, even though his expression remained stoic behind his shades, save for the ghost of a smile. Sarah felt simultaneously put at ease by his comforting demeanor and put on edge by a natural danger sense.
“I don’t understand. What would we have to talk about?” Sarah’s expression became guarded, her voice taking on a note of cold steel, “I don’t even know you, sir…?”
The man stood straight, as if shocked. “Right, of course. The name is Jack. Jack Grey, at your service. And as for what to talk about, I get the distinct impression that you have been trying to talk to someone for a very long time about something. Is that correct?”
“I don’t see how that is your business, Mr. Grey.”
He smiled, “Well, I think it is my business, Ms. Wallace, because I am the person you’ve been looking for.”
Sarah stared at the man long and hard. On one hand, he was right. She had been looking for an ear to speak to. She had never been very clear with herself what she expected to have happen. She was just pushing forward desperately trying to break through whatever was trying to bury her. Find something, someone, on the other side to help her. But she never took much care to think what it would look like if she finally did get through. Was this her opportunity? However, on the other hand, this felt like another too perfect coincidence. Much like how the videos disappeared, how opportunities kept closing on her. She realized, with horrifying clarity, that she had no other choice. Like it or not, trust him or not, Jack Grey was the only option she was left with. Sarah doubted that this was accidental. Sarah let out a heavy sigh and shouldered her bag.
“Okay then, Mr. Grey. Am I right in thinking you already know my story?”
“I do, yes. And please, call me Jack.” He stepped to one side, gesturing for her to walk past.
Sarah did not budge. “Am I also right in thinking you are the reason that all of the evidence of what happened has mysteriously vanished? The reason no one will talk to or listen to me?” Her voice became pointed, rising slowly in volume. Jack appeared unaffected by the outburst.
“Me specifically? No. But I am associated with those responsible. May we discuss this somewhere less… public? I promise to answer every question you have.”
“Every question?”
“Every question.”
“What is the catch?” Sarah was raised well enough to know nothing was free.
“No catch. Nothing serious. I will answer your every question, and in return you will hear me out for what I have to say. Fair trade, Ms. Wallace?”
Jack’s hand was poised on the door handle, waiting for her answer to either leave or open the door for her. Sarah glanced around the lobby of the Homefront embassy, as if she were leaving home. It was a cold, bleak room in the dim late-night lighting. Little bits of trash lay in the corners waiting for some janitorial staff to sweep up in the early morning hours. There was still no sign of the drowsy intern, most likely they had crept off while Sarah was lost in thought, grateful for an escape to sleep and be free of her crazed ramblings. There was no future for her here, no answers. Like it or not, Jack was the only link she had to getting answers. Right now, answers were all she wanted.
“Sounds fair enough to me. Lead the way, Jack.”
The night was colder than Sarah expected. She clutched her jacket tightly around her, bag tucked under one arm. The streetlights of the small, sleepy colonial capital flickered and droned, as if quietly complaining about needing better upkeep. Despite the lights, the sky was glowing with stars, evidence of the relatively low population density of this planet’s colony. She barely remembered how she had gotten here. Her life had fallen into such a mess, such a state of fuddled despair that it felt like she had been dreaming. Jack, the tempting offer of answers, and the comfort of finally knowing she was truly sane, had all served as a splash of cold water upon her mind. For the first time since she left Kohara, Sarah felt a little bit more like her old self. Except the nagging feeling, the guilty feeling, was still there. Like a heavy stone at the bottom of her gut. A voice quietly screaming on the inside: Why are you alive when they all died?
They walked in silence through the sleeping city streets. The soundscape was devoid of the normal hum and clatter which Sarah was accustomed to back on Earth, or in the cities of more populated planets. Jack did not appear to expect conversation, his expression was still the slightly smiling stoicism that Sarah was beginning to suspect was his default. Rather than attempt small talk, she decided to take the opportunity to size up her benefactor. He was of slightly taller than average height. Muscular, but not unusually so. Sarah suspected he was probably more fit than he appeared. He moved with an easy confidence, with little uncertainty or wariness about his movements. His hair was short and light, like sandy grass, and trimmed very neatly. Despite his relaxed demeanor, there was a rigidity to his manner that made Sarah wonder at a military background. He reminded her of her family members who had served.
Sarah’s inspection of Mr. Grey ended when they arrived at their destination. A small restaurant beside the humble spaceport, a diner and bar for the pilots who frequented this backwater. The lights were on and a holo-display blinked an “open” message across the door. Stepping inside, the place was not entirely empty. Even in this sleepy town, there was always someone coming or going through the spaceport. An attendant, conversing quietly with a regular at the counter, raised her eyes to meet Sarah and Jack, giving them a nod and a gesture to know she would be right with them. The seating booths were arranged along a central corridor for the waitress to walk, in the time hollowed traditional layout for such places where the coffee was always hot, usually serviceable, rarely good, and never empty. Two gentlemen were hunched over plates at the far end, at this distance Sarah could not tell if they were awake or simply absorbed in their food. Midway down the other side a large, grizzled man was leaned back in a booth, his feet kicked up on the table while he smoked a cigar, awake but eyes closed. No one seemed to take particular interest in the two people who just stepped in, not even the attendant who had now vanished into the back room.
Jack arbitrarily picked an empty booth, a few down from the door, and motioned for Sarah to take a seat.
“Alright. As promised, ask away. I will answer everything to the best of my ability.” Jack removed his shades, revealing piercing blue eyes. Aside from an unnerving sensation of seeing through her soul, Sarah was displeased to find that Jack’s expression was just as unreadable without his sunglasses. Clearing her throat, she settled into her side of the booth and reached for the first question she could think of.
“Why.”
“Why what?” Jack arched an eyebrow.
“Why make it all vanish? You said you were associated with the ones who have being trying to bury what happened to me.”
“Well, ‘trying’ to bury you is a bit unfair. They’re doing quite well at it. And it is not personal, they aren’t trying to bury you. They’re simply trying to suppress how many people hear about what you’ve encountered.”
“Well why!?” Sarah’s voice rose in frustration.
Jack gave her a warning glance, motioning with his eyes to the other occupants. The cigar smoking man cracked an eye open. The waitress, who had finally found her way out of the back and had begun to meander their way had stopped in her tracks, suddenly becoming distracted with a small tear in a booth seat.
“Sorry. Why suppress it?” Sarah asked, softly this time.
“A few years ago, some of the intelligence community within the Homefront began to suspect that someone was infiltrating their defenses. They didn’t like it, and in investigating it they discovered the culprits to be a group of previously unknown Aelves.”
“I don’t understand-“
“A moment, Sarah. There is a point to this. Somehow, in the midst of concerns about security breaches and trying to discover the nature of the unknown, supposed threat, the Homefront military found themselves entangled in a skirmish with these strange Aelves. Eventually, it was decided that they were not a threat, and the Homefront military withdrew. But soldiers and Aelves alike lost their lives needlessly. And this negative interaction could have cost most than the Homefront knew. The people I associate with now have connection with these mystery Aelves, no thanks to the Homefront’s bumbling. The lesson here is that some things, new and dangerous things, are best observed before rash decisions are made. It wouldn’t do to have all Centauri trying to invade Kohara, not if we want to know what is going on.”
“So you just intend to hide it,” Sarah’s voice could not hide her disdain, “And what about the people who lost their lives there? What about their families? Don’t they deserve to know.”
Jack leaned forward, “But they do know, Sarah. We’ve made sure they know. We’ve compensated them generously to keep the news within the family, within those who have a right to grieve. And I mean very generously compensated. We aren’t monsters, Sarah. That is precisely why we are working so hard to keep the situation a secret. To save lives.”
“And what about my life?” Sarah spoke accusingly, narrowing her eyes at Jack, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t go back to Minerva. It is hard to finish a degree at a school that claims I never attended. I can’t go back to the family farm after what I’ve seen,” Sarah grabbed a napkin and gestured violently at Jack with it, “No one ever compensated me for what happened. No one paid me to grieve quietly over my friends who died in front of me!”
“And why do you think I am here, Sarah?” Jack answered calmly.
“I don’t want your damn money!” She snapped. Jack chuckled.
“No, I didn’t think so. So, I didn’t come to offer you money. I came to offer you a job.”
“A job? Are you serious?”
“Yes, a job. You want to move on with your life? You said it yourself. You can’t.” Jack’s ghost of a smile began to appear at both corners of his mouth, and Sarah began to realize that he had anticipated the direction of the conversation from the beginning, “The only way that you, Sarah Wallace, can move on is to get answers. The only way to get answers, real answers, is to join my team.”
Sarah was caught flatfooted, speechless.
“Join us,” Jack continued, “And we’ll find the answers together.”
“Join you? Who even are you? I don’t even think your name is really Jack Grey.”
Jack chuckled again, “No, no it isn’t. And if you come with me, your name won’t be Sarah Wallace anymore. It is in the nature of what we do. But I can tell you who we are.”
Jack paused as the waitress, sensing that the heated moment of conversation was past, had approached. They both ordered coffee, and politely waited until she had left before continuing.
“We’re called the Initiative. ‘The Supra Stellas Initiative’ if you are being proper. We like to call it ‘S.S.I.’ for short. We investigate anomalies across the known universe. To try and understand what we currently do not. In particular, we’re interested in things that defy known modern science.”
Jack paused again as the waitress set down two coffees. Before he could begin, Sarah cut in.
“You were interested in Kohara. You, ah… I mean the Initiative was the mystery sponsor that Maxwell kept talking about, weren’t you?”
A full smile broke out across Jack’s face, “Very good. Yes, Sarah. We sponsored your expedition. Maxwell was one of us. We had hoped to get more answers on the Perseus question.”
Sarah nodded, “You wanted to know how it got there, where there was a connection between it and the Perseus system even though it is so far away.”
“Yes. Kohara is not the only planet. We’ve catalogued many. Maxwell hoped to visit all of them eventually. Kohara was the first. After what happened, we are only barely closer to answers and yet down one incredible xeno-biologist.” Jack looked directly at Sarah, “Will you help us finish what Maxwell started?”
Sarah stared into her cup of coffee. Things were moving so fast, and yet it all made sense to her. Jack was right, what she wanted most was answers. She didn’t want money; she didn’t want to go back to the farm. She wanted to know. All the questions she had from her research only got louder after the deaths of her team. The only thing that could make those deaths mean something would be to find answers to those questions. Sarah took a large swig of her coffee. A bit too large, it burned her mouth, but she did her best not to show. Setting it back down firmly, with a loud ceramic clack of emphasis, she fixed a determined face at Jack.
“I’m in.”
A curious eyebrow arched from Jack, “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Good. How do you feel like piloting? I’ve read you scored high in simulations.”
“It runs in the family. It was not my main passion, obviously, but it is what they wanted of me. Give me time, and I can fly it.”
“Even better. Because I was also hoping to recruit a pilot. I’ve already got my muscle.” He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the smoking patron. In response, the man sat upright, put out his cigar, and started to make ready to go. “He isn’t much for words. His name is Uther. Tough as nails, and one hell of a good shot with that Fenris Carbine of his. The hope is to prevent a repeat of what happened to your team.”
“I would appreciate that. I’m… still working on forgetting the last time.”
Jack simply nodded an affirmative, “Our next stop is to pick up our chief technical officer. You can tag along with me on the recruitment, or you can rest on the ship. Whatever suits your fancy.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Welcome aboard Sarah.”
Posted by Archkyrie – Coffee on 2021-03-16 03:33:51
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