"Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides."
-André Malraux
A/N: This story will contain graphic violence (nothing more explicit than the movies) as well as consensual sexual and romantic relationships between men.
Isaac looked up from his book as the speakers bolted to the library ceiling crackled to life. He frowned at the interruption. Ship announcements were only made when something was wrong.
"Hey idiots," Thea declared in the same sardonic voice she used for all announcements, "Michiel wants everyone in the theatre ASAP. Captain's orders."
Isaac set the auto-book to sleep. "What's going on?"
"Hell if I know. Just do it, okay?"
"Someone's cranky," Isaac noted with a half-grin as made his way out of the library.
"Wouldn't you be cranky if you were an all-seeing, all-knowing AI trapped in a tin can with you seven morons?"
"Good point."
He learned the hard way that it was better to take her jabs with humor. Her surliness was only the result of her artifOS being a couple of seasons out of date.
Isaac made his way through the corridor, glancing to his left through the ship's ultraglass windows. A grim panorama of twinkling lights set against pitch blackness met his gaze. His steps quickened.
The conference room they all called the theatre waited for Isaac at the end of a long, complicated series of ashen passageways. He arrived at the door and signed into the attendance touchpad. The screen flickered before his eyes.
TENJIN SHIP : CONF. ROOM 20AA "THEATRE"
/ IN ATTENDANCE /
Flight Team
Jansen, Michiel … Captain [PRESENT]
Anand, Kaysar… Navigation Officer [PRESENT]
Voss, Duken… Medical Officer [PRESENT]
Wheeler, Xaviq… Security Officer [PRESENT]
Research Team
Gao, Dr. Jino … Lead Archaeologist [PRESENT]
Temple, Remy… Research Assistant [PRESENT]
Zhang-Kallor, Isaac… Librarian [ ? ]
Shit. He was late. And the last to arrive. With a skeleton crew like the Tenjin's, it was hard not to notice when someone was missing.
Isaac waved his wrist over the touchpad. The blinking question mark became a solid 'PRESENT' as the doors slid open. Inside, the crew had split into predictable groups...
Jino and his assistant Remy were murmuring together, hyper-focused on their personal touchpads.
Kaysar and Duken were having another one of their loud, passionate arguments, thickly accented German and Indian voices forever battling for victory.
Wheeler was doing pull-ups on one of the ceiling's low pipes. As usual, his cowboy hat never moved an inch off his head.
And still, everyone turned to stare as Isaac anxiously stepped into the room.
"Mr. Zhang-Kallor!" Michiel called from the front of the room. He looked smart and handsome in his captain's coverall uniform, royal blue, zippered pockets, and a UWF patch on the shoulder. The top half of his uniform was unzipped, displaying chest hair that peeked above his grey undershirt. "You decided to join my extremely mandatory crew meeting. Nice of you."
Though his tone was jovial, Isaac recognized the urgency behind it. He raised a hand, half-greeting and half-apology, before taking a seat.
"Even the Doc got here before you and he's got a broken leg," said Wheeler, the ship's security officer. Jino - whose doctorate was not in medicine but archaeology - replied with a curt and unamused smile. His left leg was in a cast and elevated on a second chair.
Michiel cleared his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I've interrupted your day."
"Crossed my mind," Kaysar said with a questioning look. As the ship's pilot, he was Michiel's number two, and the first person the captain turned to with important news. Except this time, it seemed.
Jino raised his hand. Always an academic. "We're still on course for the wreckage site, I trust?"
"Ah, see, that's the thing." Michiel scratched the back of his neck. "About half an hour ago, a signal was picked up. Thea noticed it first."
"Don't shoot the messenger," she warned.
Kaysar's thick brows furrowed on his already serious face. "What kind of signal?"
"Distress."
A wave of mixed reactions from the men. Jino and his assistant grumbled with annoyance. Kaysar asked concerned questions rapidly. Beside him, Duken shook his head and rubbed at his sleep-deprived face, while Wheeler laughed in disbelief.
"People, people," Michiel's voice rose above the din. He didn't get stern often. As long as things ran smoothly he was everyone's pal, but he also wasn't above using his Captain voice. "At least listen to my report before you have your tantrums."
He looked at Isaac, a port of calm water in the crew's unhappy sea, and winked. Isaac smiled back.
"You're sure it was an S.O.S.? You're positive?" Kaysar asked.
"Emergency signals are the most straightforward of the standard beacons."
The AI in the speaker system sighed. "In other words, yes, you dolt. We're sure."
"What are we required to do?" Wheeler crossed his big arms over his chest.
"We're under obligation to investigate and offer assistance. The transmission is flagged automatically, we would be breaking United Worlds Federation law if we ignored it."
"Excuse me, Captain," Jino piped up at a volume level unusual to his soft-spoken nature, "The Tenjin has agreed to shuttle my research team to the satellite wreckage orbiting Amaterasu, and only that satellite wreckage. That's the entire point of this expedition and it's spelled out in an ironclad contract you and I signed."
"UWF law supersedes private agreement," Thea said.
"But this is a commercial vessel that's been repurposed as a small research ship. We're not a rescue unit," Jino replied.
"I'm afraid the lady's right, Doc. We're the only ship in the system. If someone needs help we can't leave them stranded."
Isaac searched the faces of his crewmates. They all seemed concerned about themselves, the impact on their jobs. No one seemed interested in asking the obvious. "Where's the signal coming from?"
"A layover station called Vanguard One," Thea said. "One of those rest and refueling checkpoints for ships on long-haul expeditions."
"Is it far?"
"No. It's a week's journey to Ebisu, the planetoid it orbits."
Isaac exchanged another look with the captain, who nodded, silently grateful that at least one of his crew wasn't complaining. "So, what's wrong? Why are they broadcasting an S.O.S.?"
Thea paused. "We don't know."
The sound of a cigarette being lit startled everyone. Isaac didn't need to look to know it was Duken, the scruffy, eternally hungover ship medic with dark under-eye circles and sandy hair that stuck out in all different directions.
"What do you mean, 'We don't know'?" Smoke billowed from Duken's lips, dragon-like. The Berlin in his voice was prominent when he was annoyed. "Isn't it your job to know?"
"It's my job to make sure the Tenjin's running and you don't all die," Thea sighed. "Less a duty than it is a burden."
"Vanguard One's comm channels have gone dark," said Michiel. "Which could mean they're experiencing a blackout or that their satellite is fried. We could just be looking at a small crew in need of a booster and some extra supplies."
"Or a station completely decimated by shipraiders," Duken said after another puff.
"Let's not joke about that," said Kaysar.
"Why not?" shrugged Wheeler as he adjusted his Stetson, "Might as well take out all this pent-up anger on a bunch of punk pirates."
"Much as I'd like to see that, Wheeler, there's no reason to believe there's been a hostile takeover. Thea hasn't logged any illegal ships in the system."
"Do we have access to Vanguard One's docking registry?" Isaac wondered aloud.
"We do, but only what's been registered up until the blackout," replied Thea. "And it doesn't really tell us anything. The last ship to dock was a standard transport vessel. Not unusual for a layover station."
Duken thumbed the steel tip of his lighter as he stared, unfocused, into the middle distance. "So we could be walking into anything. Anything at all."
"There's that can-do attitude," said Michiel. "You're all being a bunch of babies. We're going in and I don't want to hear any more moaning about it. Kaysar, work with Thea to plot a navigational course to Vanguard One. Duken, put some medkits together. Make sure all the auto-surgery pods in the medlab are prepped. We could be dealing with injuries. Wheeler, I want you on weapons. Take our strike uniforms out of storage, too."
Wheeler cocked an eyebrow. "Thought we weren't expecting a hostile takeover?"
"We're not. But I didn't become Captain by being unprepared."
"Sir, yes sir." Wheeler's gruff voice couldn't hide his delight.
"What about the research team?" Jino asked. His assistant Remy poised a finger over his touchpad, eager to take notes. Isaac, too, perked up at this. Though he often felt isolated from the man, he was still technically Dr. Gao's other employee.
"Continue doing what you guys do. Unless we need an extra hand with something, recon and rescue falls under the scope of the flight team. We need to deal with Vanguard One before we can resume course to your archaeo-dig. I apologize but it's not negotiable. These are the hazards of spaceflight, we all knew that when we boarded this ship."
Jino nodded, his face hard and betraying nothing. Remy quietly put his touchpad to sleep. They were all dismissed a moment later, each of them off to do their assigned task or continue the work they were already doing. No one could honestly say they were as calm as they were an hour ago.
Starlight illuminated the passageway that led back to the Tenjin's library. Michiel swerved around a bend in the corridor, dogtags jangling against his chest, hoping to catch Isaac before he returned to work. He was thankful to see the librarian a few feet ahead.
"Sir," Isaac sounded surprised as he turned to meet the captain's gaze. "Is something wrong?"
Michiel waved a dismissive hand. "Aside from an AI with a malfunctioning personality and a ship full of whiners – present company excluded? Peachy."
"No one really loves receiving a distress transmission. I'm sure they're just nervous, sir."
The boy certainly was diplomatic, a quality that was rare on a crew like this. "You can call me Michiel when it's just the two of us."
"Sure. Did you need something from the library?"
"Just wanted to say thank you for keeping a level head in there. We haven't really had a chance to talk much since we left Luna station. Out of everyone I think I probably know the least about your portfolio."
He smiled. "I guess you don't usually have a librarian on your crew."
"Nope. First time. The Tenjin's a cargo ship by trade."
"Now you have cargo that talks," Isaac said. "Well, sometimes. You have cargo that mostly grumbles while drinking coffee and reading archaeology journals."
Michiel leaned against the ultraglass. "Yeah, the Doc and his student don't seem to be big fans of the flight team."
"I'd apologize for Jino, but I met him at the same time you guys did." Isaac's slim shoulders rose and fell. "No way I could have warned you."
"Academic types aren't that great with people." He stared, realizing his gaffe a moment too late. "Oh, except- I didn't mean-"
A chuckle from the younger man. "It's okay. I'm flattered you consider me an academic type."
"Well, there are two master's degrees between the two of us. And none of them are from me."
Isaac's lips parted in surprise. "I thought you said you didn't know much about my portfolio?"
"I suppose I know a little." Michiel felt sheepish all of a sudden, and all too aware of their nearness. Isaac may have been known around the flight deck as "the pretty boy", but his intelligence couldn't be disguised. It was all over his eyes, inquisitive and searching, the color of emeralds.
"Captain," Thea said. "Not sorry to interrupt the mating ritual. Kaysar needs you in the nav room."
Michiel raked his fingers through his wavy brown hair. It was getting too long. "I thought I asked him to work on a nav path with you."
"And we're having such a swell time. He said he needs another set of eyes."
"Is he aware that you have 57?"
"I don't think 57 views of the same stupid metal hallways are useful to him right now, Cap."
Isaac cleared his throat, looking just as caught as Michiel felt. "I should get back to work. Those archaeology journals aren't going to catalog themselves."
"Isaac. Before you go? Join us in the mess for dinner tonight."
"Oh, I..."
"Pretend the auto-chef in your room doesn't exist. Don't let Wheeler and his Wheeler-ness fool you, we're actually a pretty good group to be around."
"That's nice of you to offer. But I work pretty late and-"
"If the Doc's got a problem with you socializing like a normal human being he can take it up with me." The words came out authoritative, stern. And, he hoped, convincing.
Isaac thought for another moment before his expression softened. "Alright. I'll see you in the mess tonight."
Michiel raised a triumphant thumb, a gesture that Isaac matched. They said their goodbyes and parted directions – Isaac toward the library, Michiel toward the navigation room deeper in the ship.
"Thea, what do you think?"
"I think a sledgehammer to the face would have been more subtle."
"I meant about Isaac, smartass."
"What's the endgame, sir? Flowers and chocolate, dim lights, a locked bedroom?"
"I'm just being friendly. This is his first spaceflight."
"Isaac's more interested in books than making buddies."
"Why don't we let him decide what he's more interested in?"
"Whatever you say."
Isaac spent the rest of the 'day' - or what passed for daytime on the Tenjin and its automatic light cycles - more nervous than he expected. It wasn't that he didn't like the flight team, but there were noticeable differences. The notion of having a meal with them was intimidating. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, a slight and effete figure eating shoulder-to-shoulder with such a brawny and rugged crew. Michiel, Kaysar, Duken, and Wheeler had all done tours in the Crisis War, and they had the hard bodies and harder attitudes to prove it. It didn't help that Isaac, at 25, was the youngest on the Tenjin by a good eight years. Unless you counted Remy, who was also his age, but had such a fundamentally different personality that he might as well have been a potted plant instead of another body on the ship.
It wouldn't have mattered much if Isaac had already cultivated friendships with his employer, Dr. Gao. He and Remy were frosty and closed off, like members of a secret brotherhood, and only talked to him when they needed access to a journal or article. It left Isaac feeling nebulous and invisible, neither accepted by the research team nor a part of the flight team. As friendless in space as he was on Earth.
But perhaps with Michiel's invitation, that could start to change.
At 6 pm ship time, Isaac logged off his work console and closed the library. Not that anyone other than Remy visited, but Isaac got some admittedly petty satisfaction out of imagining the research assistant huffing and puffing at the locked door.
His chest tightened as he approached the mess hall at the center of the Tenjin. Like all rooms on the ship, it looked like it was held together with duct tape and pure determination. It was distinguishable only by its circular communal table and the automatic cooking equipment lining the edges of the room. As rumpled and informal as the men dwelling inside.
"There's absolutely no proof," Kaysar was saying as Isaac entered.
His usual sparring partner, Duken, had his feet up on the table while he stirred something in his bowl. "Doesn't mean it's not worth discussing."
"You say that about everything. Not every paranoid fantasy of yours is worth discussing."
The corner of Duken's mouth lifted in a grin. He looked tired – he always did – but his expression hinted at something more ribald. "When are you just going to admit you're in love with me?"
"When all other men in the galaxy are dead."
At the other end of the table, Michiel and Wheeler laughed or groaned. They were all too familiar with this exchange.
Wheeler was the first to notice Isaac idling by the entrance. "Pretty boy's in the house!"
"I swear I made him promise not to call you that," Michiel said, pinning the security officer with a sharp look.
"Come join the cavalry," Duken said. "Buddha knows we're getting tired of each other."
Isaac said his hellos and grabbed a bowl of the daily special from the auto-chef. Noodles in broth with soy-pro beef substitute. Could have been worse. As he joined the table, Michiel stood and didn't return to his seat until Isaac was seated. A gallant gesture that made the librarian go red.
"What's everyone talking about?" he asked, hoping to deflect attention from his beet-colored face.
"Kaysar thinks that just because he's the crew member with the longest recorded flight time that he's the big ultimate authority on all space matters."
"Not all space matters," Kaysar corrected, "Just the ones that are obviously untrue."
Wheeler spoke with a mouthful of half-chewed food. "They're arguing 'bout the Knights of Centauri again."
Isaac stirred the seasoning packet into his bowl. "What's that?"
"Thea, please tell him the fairy tale," Kaysar called.
"The Knights of Centauri, a rumored fringe group..."
"Ha," Kaysar pointed at Duken, "Rumored."
"Can I finish? A rumored fringe group allegedly made up of disenfranchised ex-UWF soldiers. Basically, a traveling warrior society. In space."
"So, they're shipraiders?"
"Far from it. Their purpose isn't to steal salvage," Duken said, "It's bloody combat. There's a code they live by. The tougher the kill, the higher the honor. They travel the galaxy looking for other warriors, to either recruit or slaughter. All for the glory of... of..."
"Of fucking nonsense," Kaysar finished. "Of macho bullshit dreamt by bored space crews hopped up on stems."
Duken snorted. "Our pilot here doesn't believe in anything he can't see. But me? I think the galaxy's too damn big."
"I don't understand," Isaac said, fully aware of how naïve he sounded, "Why would soldiers become some kind of roving gang?"
"A bunch of UWF army fleets went missing during the Crisis War. You think all of them were happy about serving in something so pointless and devastating?"
A dark chill overcame the flight team as Duken spoke. A grim silence that no one wanted to break. They knew, first hand, exactly what he was talking about.
"And if you ask me, given enough time, and enough silence? A man can be driven to do anything. Especially if he comes across a man who's already half-way there."
Isaac, who spent his days updating the ship's digital catalogue and scanning vintage texts, couldn't imagine a life so opposite from his own. So... barbaric.
"Sign me up," Wheeler grunt-laughed. Dumb, but it broke the tension.
"It does sound right up your alley," Kaysar shrugged. "I think we can all agree on that."
Isaac studied Michiel, who had gone quiet. "Captain? What are your thoughts?"
"Boogeymen," he replied, stabbing at his bowl's last shred of fake beef. "Boogeymen and rumors started by ship crews with more imagination than sense. No offense, Duken."
"None taken."
"Solidarity," Kaysar raised his mug.
Duken swung one of his legs from the table and jabbed playfully at the pilot's side. Kaysar blocked the advancing limb with an open palm.
"Get your foot away from me."
"I thought we said we wouldn't fight in front of the kids anymore?"
Michiel glanced at Isaac and smirked. "Told you this would be better than eating dinner in your room."
"Gotta be a rollercoaster here compared to working with Doc and his boy wonder," Wheeler said.
"Dr. Gao's okay," Isaac said, "I mean, he did break his leg during flight orientation. I'd be cranky too."
A round of guffaws. Isaac remembered he was talking to a table of war veterans, men who'd seen and incurred injuries far ghastlier than a cracked shin.
"Poor guy," Wheeler sniffed with mock sincerity. "Seriously, though. How do you handle him all day? All demands and no smiles. Might as well be working under a synthetic."
"He never actually comes into the library, physically," Isaac said. "He'll either ping a message to my console or send Remy."
The guffaws were replaced with groans, the loudest coming from the security officer. "Remy. That son of a bitch couldn't find a sense of humor if it was ultraglued to his touchpad screen."
Isaac privately thought much worse about Remy, but it was nothing he wanted to broadcast. "Come on, you guys are being kind of harsh."
The mood stiffened a little at his reproach. Wheeler's chewing slowed down, while Kaysar and Duken exchanged a brief look before returning to their meals. The conversation meandered lazily from the quality of the noodles to the prep work being done for their emergency trip to Vanguard One. It petered out into yawns and goodbyes until Michiel and Isaac were the only two in the mess left.
"I think we've got a new nickname for you," the captain said. "The Peacekeeper."
"I can't decide if that's better or worse than 'pretty boy'. Was I being a total buzzkill tonight?"
"Nah. The guys like to shit talk. Maybe I should start shutting it down."
Isaac looked at his dinner, half-finished and cold.
"For the record, the guys don't have anything bad to say about you. Other than how quiet you are."
"There are certain stereotypes of my profession that I'd like to uphold, thank you very much."
Michiel grinned again. Isaac liked the way it brought light to the captain's features, which were handsome and chiseled, but dark, somehow. Haunted. Michiel was fairly young for a captain, but as was true of many an ex-soldier, he carried himself with the burdens of someone much older.
Isaac was thankful, then, that Michiel was able to smile at all. And that he was usually the one the captain was looking at when he did.
"Sir," Kaysar appeared at the entrance. He was in a t-shirt and jogging shorts, either in the middle of getting ready for bed or a workout. A slight panic flared his brown eyes. "Thea just received something. A video."
"What are you talking about?" Michiel stood, tall and powerful, fully in captain mode. "Why didn't she tell me herself?"
"She received it right as she was talking to me about something. The file's badly damaged, she's scrubbing it now. Didn't have enough memory left over for cross-ship comms. Told me to pass along the message."
"Should've updated her goddamn OS before take off..."
"It's urgent, captain."
"Why?"
"It's from Vanguard One."
A man leans away from the camera. The room is dark except for the rectangle of light from the open door directly behind him. The man could be anyone, his features obscured in black silhouette. The man's hands move just below the frame. He tinkers with something solid and metal.
"What we found... and what we took... we are being punished for it."
He pauses, perhaps hearing something in the distance. Footsteps? The audio is too damaged to tell.
"They're coming. But I don't fear death. I fear what waits after."
A pause. He raises the object into frame. A revolver.
"Our nightmares have all spiraled off into impossible directions that will never intersect. But every last one of us heard the same voice, reciting the same words, when our realities crumbled."
The distant sounds are clearer now, closer. They definitely are footsteps, but not of a man. They are heavy yet fast, and are joined by a wet, inhuman scream that seethes with hatred.
The man raises the revolver to his head. His hands do not shake.
"'At the end of the black corridor' it says, 'You will know my name.'"
He fires. His body slumps forward and never moves again.
The footage cut to static a moment later. Michiel, Kaysar, and Isaac stood before the holovid screen for a long time, expressions drawn and colorless. The pit of the navigation room suddenly felt a lot colder.
"What- what the hell did we just see?" Isaac forced the words through his throat.
Michiel's jaw clenched as he switched off the screen. "Thea?"
"Transmission date puts this a few minutes before Vanguard One's distress signal. The file must have bounced around a few auxiliary satellites before making it our way."
"Christ on a cracker," he mumbled.
"Thea," Isaac's voice shook. "Who is Vanguard One registered under?"
Kaysar and Michiel gave him a look - What does that matter? Isaac ignored it. If he saw what he thought they saw, they were in even bigger trouble than he initially thought.
"Borgia Industries, initially. According to the WikiCorp, it recently became part of an independent franchise of layover stations. Each one is run by a separate franchise owner."
"Meaning, Vanguard One isn't owned by a conglomerate?"
"Correct."
"Are you sure?"
"Is that everyone's favorite question today? Yes, for crying out loud. I'm sure."
"Isaac," Michiel's brows knit in confusion. "What are you getting at?"
A knot of anxiety tightened in the librarian's stomach. "Thea, can you bring up a screenshot? The last frame before everything goes to static."
"Morbid, but okay..."
The holovid screen blinked back to life. The anonymous man was crumpled and still, his body taking up half the screen. An employee lanyard had shifted forward after he collapsed dead and was visible around his neck.
Isaac leaned in to get a better look. His fellow shipmates followed, seeing what he was seeing. He wanted to be wrong about what he saw, but there was no denying that the company symbol embossed along the lanyard strap was the same W and Y recognizable to every human traveling the galaxy.
Isaac could barely say the words out loud. "Weyland Yutani."
