Chapter 11: Friends in Low Places

Elijah 6.

Now, this was flying. The initial jump into hyperspace had been thrilling, in part because of how incomprehensibly fast they were traveling, even compared to normal FTL speeds, and partly because of how differently the mechanics of the hyperspace engine worked compared to Imperium ships. Or to the technology of any other species he had heard of, for that matter.

He had always imagined piloting to be done in one of two ways: in a strike craft or a smaller ship, using a flight stick, or in a larger vessel using console-entered updates to change the ship’s speed or heading. But this ... this was like nothing he had ever conceived of. He was flying with his mind.

The uplink to the ship through the interface helmet was a revelation. He ‘felt’ the ship around him. The sensors were his eyes and ears; the engines were his beating heart, and the weapons were the might of his arms. They were merged in a way he had never even considered to be possible, and yet a small part of him instinctively knew that this is how it was always meant to be.

Traveling through the cosmos wasn’t only meant to be a journey; it was meant to be an experience. And he was experiencing it all. He just sat in the command seat on the bridge of the Atlas, a gentle, happy smile on his face, and his eyes, although open, were barely taking in the room surrounding him. He was the ship, the ship was him, and he was flying. He felt so much bigger, not in respect of the fact that he was, theoretically speaking, now a twenty-four-kilometer-long ship, but because his sensors let his mind reach out for lightyears in every direction at once. He studied the internal properties of a comet, so far away that it would take an average civilian ship thirteen hours at hyperspace to reach. He marveled at the swirling patterns of color and light of a passing nebula, then let his ‘eyes’ wander over the magnetic waves and radioactive particles as they danced throughout it. He watched a planet for a few minutes as it raced past, studying the primitive, marsupial-like lifeforms on there who may one day grow to be the dominant species of that world and maybe evolve - in tens of thousands of years - to a point where they could join the rest of the galaxy in exploring the cosmos. He watched in awe and in wonder as the Atlas raced through the majesty of space.

It was more beautiful than anything he could ever hope to have imagined before. He was so small; the Atlas was so small; humanity was so small, yet all of them were part of a greater whole. An imperceptibly tiny cog in the mechanism of the enormous pocket watch of the Universe. Tiny, yes, but far from inconsequential.

Mostly, though, he delighted in the tiny vibrations through the hull as they passed the edges of a nearby gravity well or the magnetism of a passing asteroid field, the gentle swaying motion as the massive ship swayed and weaved with gentle precision between stars and flowed on the currents of fading solar winds. It was like being on a sailing ship in Earth’s ancient past, feeling the Atlas moving with the waves, rocking in the wind, and traveling with the tides and the currents. Flying, he now knew, was not a mechanical series of commands plotted to get you from A to B but was an organic melding of technology with space and time. He was a bird on the wing, not flying in a straight line just to get somewhere; he was traveling; it was the epitome of the school of thought that said life - or in this case, hyperspace travel - was as much about the journey as it was about the destination.

And Elijah was quickly falling in love with the journey.

“You’ve got that weird smile on your face again,” Laura said from the bridge. He hadn’t even noticed her coming in.

“If you could see and feel what I am, I’m pretty sure you would be smiling, too,” he chuckled as he reluctantly pulled his mind back to the confines of the room around him. She was smirking teasingly at him from her perch next to one of the wall-lining terminals. As far as he could tell, she still couldn’t read any of the information on its screen, but in something akin to a small child, she was more than happy to look at the pictures until she found a way to digest the rest. “Maybe you should give it a try sometime,” he added, a playful smirk of his own.

She snorted out a laugh. “Oh yeah, how do you think that would go?”

“Your brain would probably melt out through your eyes,” Elijah shrugged. “But you’d get an idea of why I’m smiling.” He chuckled at her eye-roll before he glanced around the bridge. It was strange to think that this bridge, along with the rest of the massive ship, had once been a bustling hive of activity, but now it was just the two of them. Wu was off somewhere doing whatever Wu did when he wasn’t around.

Laura walked over to join him at the central command module, her intrigue overriding her usual reserve. “I’ll stick with my terminals for now,” she quipped, “but maybe, one day, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Elijah nodded, still coming down from the high of the neural interface. “Take all the time you need,” he laughed before he turned back to the main view screen, his eyes taking on a philosophical hue that she still wasn’t used to seeing from him.

The Atlas continued on, a silent behemoth cruising through the endless night, guided by sentient thought and propelled by forces that bridged impossibilities. Their journey through the cosmos was underway - it was the start of a new chapter in his life, one that he could feel in his bones - the dance between man and stars, human and machine, the tangible and the ethereal. They were voyagers on the greatest expedition of their lives, making history with every light-year. For the moment, the three of them seemed to be enjoying the moment; even Wu - wherever he was - had a spring in his step and a sparkle behind his eyes as he went about his business. But the time was soon approaching when the joys of this flight would be replaced with the seriousness of the work that had to be done. He returned his attention to the myriad of tasks at hand, the ship humming steadily under his care.

The Yrdian Nebula rested quite happily, as it had done since time immemorial, on the edge of what was now Imperium space. Within it, floating peacefully in the void’s gentle embrace, was the Primus and the Mariner fleet that now controlled it. Wu had explained, somewhat briefly, what sorts of things could be garnered from the Mariners in return for their expertise in restarting the Primus’s reactor core, and he imagined that Wu would return to the bridge before too long to explain the plan in more detail, they were only three hours away, though, so time was starting to run out.

Laura, for her part, was leaning her elbow against the headrest of her chair and gazing in an almost childlike look of wonder and awe out the main viewscreen. Elijah knew exactly what she was looking at and couldn’t blame her for her wide-eyed transfixion. He had never seen anything quite like it either. During normal travel through hyperspace, when looking out the front of the ship, typically showed a tiny pinprick of brilliant white light, and from that single central point, a wave of light and color washed around the exterior of the ship, blinding its occupants to the sights beyond it. A brilliant point of luminescence that blossomed into a blinding radial bloom, obscuring the universe’s grandeur to anyone trying to watch it.

Apparently, it would seem, Ancient technology worked on a slightly - vastly - different set of principles. Even though he had downloaded the entire working knowledge of the ship’s technological abilities into his head, a veritable library of long-bequeathed knowledge from his forebears - the architects of everything he now controlled - in a way he was supposed to comprehend naturally, it was still hard for him to grasp. The entire database was in the Ancient language, which, in many cases, simply didn’t translate. It was a lexicon devoid of anything recognizable as a written word, instead being made up of elaborate, intricate pictorial representations of ideas and concepts beyond human comprehension. So, trying to rationalize it in his mind using human language was simply not possible.

There was no pinprick of light before him; what he was seeing was something altogether different. A swirling vortex of distorted space, it was akin to a cosmic window onto creation’s alchemy. What Elijah discerned as a current of shimmering space - he sort of knew - was, in truth, a pulsating maelstrom of space-time itself, a distortion as broad as the Atlas’s robust frame. It radiated outwards in waves, distorting the view like heat warping the air above a summer road, then, in a heretical defiance of FTL tradition, it waned into translucence. The curtain of warped space, whether shifting beyond the reach of humanly visible light or truly disappearing, granted them a panoramic vista of the cosmos rushing by. The reason the Atlas traveled so fast was not just a product of its speed but also the fact that it was literally distorting itself around them.

It was pretty heady stuff.

There were still no streaking lines of stars, though. That wasn’t how physics worked. But each star seemed to wobble slightly and change position. The light he was seeing from each distant star was the light that had reached his exact position after however long it had taken to travel there—billions upon billions of years in some cases—and it made the whole cosmos seem like a living, breathing, moving entity, roaming past the Atlas more than the Atlas was moving through it.

Most importantly, in that endless vista of silent, nomadic stars was the tiny but rapidly growing speck of light and color ahead of them: the Yridian Nebula.

“We will be arriving soon,” Elijah murmured to Laura in a hushed voice, as if speaking normally would banish the beauty of the sights before them and dump them unceremoniously back into normal space.

“Hmm? Oh, right,” she blinked and pulled her gaze away from the viewscreen. “I should, um ... I don’t know. Should I start getting my ship ready?”

“That depends on if you are leaving us, young lady,” Wu’s aged but still mischievous voice echoed around the bridge as he stepped onto it. Elijah didn’t need to turn to know that teasing, knowing smile would be painted onto his lips.

“Wait, what?” Laura’s eyebrows tried to look surprised, confused, and concerned all at once ... and somehow succeeded.

“I don’t know why you look so surprised,” Wu shrugged as he walked past the two of them and dropped into the chair previously occupied by Laura. “Do you think I would have given you quarters if you were going to be ejected from the ship after only a few days? I imagine that the Mariners will want permanent representation on the Atlas, especially if they agree to our terms, and I thought - considering your interest in our little ship - that you’d quite like that person to be you.”

Laura’s face contorted even more. Elijah glanced up at her and smiled to himself before turning his eyes back toward their destination. Laura clearly wasn’t a person used to being speechless, and her face now had excitement and trepidation added to the aforementioned shock and confusion. He had to admit, it was a pretty good look on her. Or at least an amusing one.

Elijah listened intently as Master Wu addressed Laura, a slight smile playing on his lips. He could see her conflicted emotions, the excitement and trepidation warring within her.

“So, you’re saying I get to stay?” Laura asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Indeed, my dear,” Wu replied, leaning back in the chair. “The Mariners would be foolish not to insist on one of their people aboard the Atlas; we will agree and insist that it is you. I can think of no one better suited for the task than you.”

Elijah turned to face Laura, meeting her gaze. “Your knowledge and experience would be invaluable if we want the negotiations to go well.” It was still amazing to him how quickly he shifted into Marshal mode when discussing anything remotely pertaining to strategy. Wu nodded in agreement. “The Mariners possess a wealth of information regarding ancient technology and artifacts. If we are to unlock the full potential of the Atlas, we will need their cooperation.”

Elijah felt a sense of anticipation at the prospect of working alongside Laura. Her curiosity and adventurous spirit seemed to have already served her so far. The Atlas had been buried for eons, and she had found it first. That counted for a lot, considering nobody else alive knew it existed.

“But what exactly are you proposing?” Laura asked, her brow furrowed in contemplation. “What kind of ‘terms’ are we talking about?”

Wu leaned forward, his expression turning more serious. “The Mariners have discovered many relics from the Ancients over the years. Some are no doubt useless, others less so. We will need to see what they have before we can make that decision. But It is highly likely that the Primis will have other ships in its hangar, ships that the Mariners can’t use. Taking possession of those would be non-negotiable. The simple fact of the matter is that they cant use any of it, so giving us what we want doesn’t actually cost them anything. In exchange for these terms being met, we offer them a way of reactivating the Primis.”

Elijah nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “The Primus is a powerful vessel, or it would be if the reactor core were active. At the moment, though, it’s a glorified paperweight. We can change that for them. An alliance between us would be to both of our benefit.”

Laura’s eyes widened as the implications of their proposal dawned on her. “You’re talking about a game-changer,” she breathed, her voice tinged with awe. “If the Mariners agree to this, it could shift the balance of power in the entire region. The Mariners, we ... we wouldn’t need to run and hide anymore. This could be ... huge!”

Wu inclined his head. “Precisely. The Imperium has grown complacent, relying on its superior numbers and technology to maintain its grip on the galaxy. With the Atlas and the Mariners working in concert, we may finally have a chance to break their stranglehold and bring true freedom to the people.” His eyes sparkled again. “Not to mention a little overdue settling of old scores.”

Elijah felt a surge of determination coursing through him. This was their chance to make a difference, to right the wrongs of the Imperium. It had been less than a day since he had learned exactly what those wrongs had been, but the determination burned strongly nonetheless

“So,” Wu clapped his hands together as he focused his gaze on the Mariner woman. “Are you in?”

Laura seemed to think for a second before nodding. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Wu laughed. “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.”

Bethany. 7

Well, that was a whole pile of festering bullshit.

Those who had never had to navigate the vast and unforgiving vacuum often glossed over the intricacies of space travel, but for Bethany, the skill of piloting was more art than science. Each arrival and departure was an intricate dance, requiring a deft, delicate touch and an intuitive understanding of her vessel. The Long Haul had been her steadfast partner, responding to Bethany’s commands as though it were an extension of her very being.

The journey to the Sol system unfolded with seamless precision, showcasing her prowess as the freighter and its three-ship military escort sliced through the cosmos, unhindered by the gravitational pulls and harsh radiation fields that lay in their path. The contract had promised her a substantial bonus if she managed to deliver the cargo early, and the Long Haul didn’t disappoint, arriving a full three days before the two-week deadline.

The transition from the dark serenity of space to the bustling activity of the Sol system demanded all of Bethany’s attention. She was no stranger to the obligatory inspections that followed each contract completion, especially to the Capital of the Imperium. However, nothing could have prepared her for the excessive scrutiny that her ship was subjected to this time around.

And she blamed Dick - or at least the shattered, frozen, space-drifting remains of him - for all of it.

Captain Smith harbored a reputation for being thorough, not that she had known that before her arrival. But as the commanding officer of the ISS Hendrix swept through the Long Haul’s cargo with his heavily armed, guff-looking team, meticulously reviewing every corner of the ship, Bethany could sense a severity that went far beyond anything that could be called standard procedure. His watchful green eyes bore into every crevice, every potential hiding place, even after the logs had confirmed that nobody had been anywhere near the cargo during its transit.

The precious goods had been allowed off the ship and transported to the surface via shuttle, and it hadn’t taken long for her computer to tell her that her bank was now flush with the credits of her payment. But that was where the good news ended. While the stasis pods and their unfortunate incumbents were handled delicately by the medical teams, whisked away to receive the care they so direly needed, Bethany faced a different kind of ordeal. She stood, arms crossed, a neutral mask concealing her inner infuriation as the marines dismantled parts of her beloved ship—a violation of her space that felt almost personal. Bulkhead panels were removed, conduits were pulled out into hallways, and scrutinizing eyes peered into the bowels of the ship’s innards with such vigor that it felt like a violation.

Through the probing and the questioning, Bethany remained composed. Dick’s betrayal had been a shit show of the greatest magnitude, but she was determined not to let it destroy her livelihood or her good name. Every corner of his quarters had been cleared of any incriminating evidence she could find—the aftermath still fresh in her waking thoughts, the echo of her forcefield activating, and the vacuum of space claiming him. It was a good thing she had cleared it, too. The vast majority of the search - or at least the initial parts of it - had been focused entirely on Dick’s quarters and had turned the cabin upside down

As the Marines’ investigation ransacked her ship, she could only cling to the hope that her thoroughness had matched theirs.

Two days vanished amidst this chaos, each moment stretching on, punctuated by relentless questioning. While Bethany was reassured of her non-suspect status, each repetitive interrogation cast an unspoken doubt over her integrity. With her sanity teetering from exhaustion, she was summoned for what she hoped would be the final time to face Captain Smith’s interrogation.

Captain Smith’s office aboard the ISS Hendrix resembled the captain himself—practical, no-nonsense, with an undercurrent of steely authority. The walls were uniform gunmetal gray, impervious, and unadorned, save for the standard insignia of the Imperium fleet emblazoned on the wall directly behind the desk - a constant reminder of the military might and order it represented.

The desk itself was a large, sturdy slab of utilitarian design made of metal that echoed the ship’s exterior construction; its surface was meticulously organized and clutter-free. Only the essentials were placed on it: a secure holo-terminal for dispatches, a flat panel displaying the ship’s vital statistics, and a pair of data pads containing the day’s rotating security protocols. The absence of personal effects suggested a man who either held his private life close to his chest or simply didn’t have one. She wasn’t sure which was more likely.

Directly above the desk, a large viewport looked out into the void of space, a silent and constant companion. It was the one concession to the room that suggested a certain poetry behind the captain’s strict demeanor. It afforded a breathtaking view of the starscape that could soothe the steeliest of hearts, assuming the man ever took a moment from his duties to actually look at it.

A series of flat screens arrayed on the remaining walls showed various feeds from around the ship, from the bridge to the engine room to the warren of busy hallways, a visual manifest of the captain’s responsibility. Everything that kept the ISS Hendrix operational was at his fingertips, a command away from action.

Two rigid chairs were positioned in front of the desk, their design prioritizing function over comfort, fit for brief meetings and not long-drawn discussions. Overhead, the lighting was bright but not harsh, illuminating the space with a clinical clarity that left no corner in shadows—a metaphor for Captain Smith’s own pursuit of truth and discipline within his domain. The core regions were his home, his kingdom to defend, and was the most prestigious of all postings within the Sys-Def fleets. As infuriating as this ordeal had been - all of it balanced on the undercurrent of repeated, seemingly hypocritical assurances about their lack of suspicion of her - she couldn’t deny that Captain Smith was a man who knew how to do his job.

“Captain Jenson, please take a seat.” He said without looking up from his terminal.

Bethany, her patience long past the point of being called tested, made no move toward the offered chair, her posture stiff, the resolve that had been her armor showing hints of wear as she defiantly stood her ground.

“I want to know what I’m doing here, Captain. You’ve got your answers. My ship’s logs are clear, I’ve been vetted, and your men have been over every inch of the Long Haul. Inside and out. What more do you need?”

Captain Smith finally turned to face her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, tenting his fingers, and looked at her. His hawkish gaze never wavered. “I want the truth, Miss Jenson. A captain is supposed to know everything that is going on on her ship, and she is responsible for the conduct of her crew. So a first mate mutinying and trying to kill his Captain is not only a rarity, it is a pretty significant red flag. In my experience, they only do that if compelled to do so by someone ... or something.” He paused, giving weight to his insinuation.

“You think I had a part in this?’ The same bullshit that almost got me killed?”

Smith shook his head. “No, but I think you know who did. You’ve got to understand the position we are in. Dick was your right hand. People need to be assured that this was an isolated incident. Can you assure me of that, Captain Jenson? Can you assure me that whoever compelled Dick to act so out of character won’t be a problem again?”

Bethany’s green eyes blazed with indignation. Her breathing was steady but cold, hinting at her clamped-down fury. The Captain was very careful with his words, not outright accusing her or anyone else while still leaving it clear that he didn’t believe he had the whole story. And that was enough to give her pause. To be fair, the Captain was right, uncannily so. He seemed to have been around the block a few times and spotted the hole in her story immediately. Dick was compelled to attack her, and it was the Merchant’s Guild behind it, or at least indirectly through the pressure they put on Freighter captains to meet delivery deadlines. If she was being honest, she hadn’t given it anywhere near enough thought as she should have.

“I’m a captain, Smith,” she answered slowly. “I’m not a slaver, not a smuggler, and I’m not a Pirate. I’ve done nothing but my job, and I got blindsided by a man I shouldn’t have trusted. That part is on me. But I’m pretty sure it’s not a crime. Dick’s actions were his own. Do you know the world of shit I will be in if word of this gets out? You know the Guild’s position on this as well as I do. I would be blacklisted, I would lose my livelihood. I’d lose everything. For what? A million caps?” Smith would have watched the recorded exchange between her and Dick countless times, so he would know that she knew how much they were worth.

Captain Smith’s gaze did not waver, but the faintest nod betrayed his understanding. “I understand your position, Bethany. But you haven’t actually answered the question. I want to know who he was working for.”

“You have seen the sensor logs. You know exactly everything that I know. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“He said he worked for the Guild. You seemed pretty surprised by that.”

“Because it’s bullshit!” she spat. “If they ran contraband, why would I have a contract expressly forbidding me from carrying anything illegal when making runs for them.”

“Well, that’s simple: they want to cover their asses in situations like this. We have suspected them of some shady underworld dealings for quite some time.”

“Then take it up with them!” Bethany threw her hands into the air. “Investigate them! Waste two days of their time!”

The Captain waited for her to finish. “Listen, I understand your frustrations, Miss Jenson, I really do. But protocol demands...”

Bethany cut him off, her voice a low, determined growl. “No. You listen. This, whatever this fucking circus is, isn’t protocol. Whatever standards you have for proof of my innocence have been met, exceeded even. If you had anything to prove that I was involved in any of this, I would already be lined up in front of the firing squad, not standing here trading words with you. You know what I know, you saw the exact fucking moment I learned it. Asking me the same questions in as many different ways as you can will not give you a different answer. There is no “Gotcha” moment here! You aren’t going to catch me out! I have answered your questions, you’ve spoken to my MG contact, he has shown you my paperwork, and I have let your fucking grunts rip my ship apart. Now I want to know on what grounds you are keeping me here!”

A heavy silence fell between them, each of them refusing to be the first to break eye contact. Captain Smith finally leaned back, his fingers ceasing their steeple. “Alright, Captain Jenson. For now, your explanation holds. But keep in mind that Sys-Def may require further assurances down the line. But there is something you need to be aware of.” he paused a few moments before taking a breath and seeming to relax. “Those Stasis pods were state of the art, meaning that their intended recipient paid a lot of money for them. You are the Captain who chose to hand them over instead of honoring a contract they thought they had. Don’t be surprised if there are consequences to that decision down the road. People like that don’t take kindly to being defied. If you find yourself in trouble, run! Contact the nearest Sys-Def force, and haul ass in their direction. I have already made a note in the system giving you priority protection status, but let’s be clear here. They will come, and you will need help.”

Bethany blinked. That sounded ... almost concerned for her safety. “I ... I’m not sure what to say to that, Sir.”

“You don’t need to say anything; you just need to be aware. You are a freighter captain who turned down a substantial payout to hand cargo over to the authorities; there aren’t many people like you out there. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I left you to the wolves.”

“I ... appreciate that, Captain ... I think.”

The Captain, still not smiling, stood from his chair and turned slightly to face his entire body towards hers. “Bethany Jenson, I am formally clearing you of any involvement in the smuggling of human contraband into the Sol System. Our emergency com frequency has been uploaded into your communications system should any third party try to accost you for your actions in this matter. On behalf of the Imperium and the Core-Worlds System Defence force, I would like to thank you for your cooperation and apologize for any delay this investigation may have caused you. You and your ship, the Long Haul, are free to go.” He finished by handing over the pad he had been looking at when she had arrived; a report that cleared her of any wrongdoing.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Now, I believe you have been looking forward to purchasing a new ship. I wish you happy shopping and safe travels.”

Bethany couldn’t help but let a smile cross her face. A shopping spree was just what she needed.

Jim. 3

His finger hovered over the button that would send his message out into the Galaxy. It hadn’t been a long recording, but after reviewing it close to a dozen times, he felt that it encompassed all of the key information and the facts of the situation that had led them to this point. But he decided to give it one more watch, just to be sure.

He hit play again, and the recording came to life. “My name is James Edwards; I work at the Morus I mining facility on the edge of the strial arm. Like everyone who lives and works here, we have spent most of our lives in the dark, mining the raw materials that the Imperium needs for everything from starship construction to home appliances. There are men, women, and children here. There are veterans, rehabilitated convicts, priests, doctors, and families. Some of our children have never seen the sun. We are loyal to the emperor and to the Imperium; we pay our taxes, we do honest, hard work ... and we are being murdered by the company we work for for the crime of asking that we be provided enough oxygen to be able to breathe. We need your help ... before they kill us all.