Episode 3: Fainthearted

Snow flurries whispered around Mark's shoes. Above, the statue of Captain Avatar towered over him. The courtyard lights shone bright in the quiet darkness. He scuffed the cobblestones, hands in his pockets. The chill air curled around him, biting through his white turtleneck and thin jacket.

His face stung with the touch of each icy flake, but as he stood before the Heroes' Hill memorial, he couldn't tear himself away. Mark pulled out his comm. It weighed in his gloved hand as he stared at the last message—from Wildstar.

He tapped it, his thumb hovering over the Call button.

Jordy slipped his hand into Mark's unoccupied one. "It's getting really cold out here. Can we go home now?"

"Yeah…" Mark pocketed the device. "Sure, Jordy." With another long look at the grave markers and statue, he ushered his little brother down the hill.

The city lights glowed below, their vibrant colors lighting up the night. Mark glanced at the time. Only nine o'clock.

As Mark pulled out of the parking lot, he heard the roar of a ship's engine. "Look, Jordy. It's the Andromeda." He pointed. "She's something, isn't she?"

"I guess." Jordy shrugged, eyes on the passing scenery. "The Argo's better," he declared. "It beat the Gamilons and saved Earth. The Star Force is so brave. I told everyone at school how great you are. When I grow up, I want to be the Argo's engineer."

Mark's heart swelled with pride. "I'm glad you remember, little brother."

"How could I forget?" Jordy asked. "The Argo's a great ship. It's got a big heart, not like that new ship. It's just a lot of shiny metal and pretty lights. I'm sick of hearing about it. The teachers at school talk about how Andromeda did this, and Andromeda is so great." Jordy stuck out his tongue. "Blech!"

Mark chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He stared at the road, contemplating Derek's message again, as he fought not to pull out his comm. He fidgeted in the driver's seat.

"The Argo's my favorite ship," Jordy declared, grinning as he pulled out the model he made last year and ran a hand over its hull.

"She's my favorite too." Mark said as they entered the city limits. The domed roads warded off the snow, and the city's lights glowed white, illuminating clean streets.

He pulled into the apartment garage and parked.

Jordy flew his model Argo around the passenger's seat, making engine sounds.

As Mark watched the boy a weight settled on his heart. He reached for his comm, hand itching to pull it out, but the instant he touched it, Jordy held out the model to him and gave Mark a toothy smile. "Here. Your turn. You get to be the navigator again."

Mark's heart skipped a beat as he took the model.

Derek's message went unanswered.


"It's nine-thirty," Nova protested, watching the street lights whiz by overhead. A holographic road marker whisked by. "This road leads to the old city."

Derek kept his eyes on the sparse traffic as he drove Nova's pale-rose pink convertible. "I know."

"Why are we going there? No one's going to be out; it's late," Nova said.

"I… need to tell you something…" He didn't look at her.

"Oh…" she whispered. "All right."

They passed the rest of the short drive in silence.

Derek drove through the dark tunnels, clicking the headlights up to high as the street lamps grew fewer and farther apart. He pulled into a familiar complex, swinging around to park in front of a building they both recognized, the old EDF Headquarters. He turned off the car. The headlights flicked off, leaving the pair in complete darkness.

"Nova…" Derek managed around the lump in his throat.

A warm hand brushed his.

"I…" he choked. "I told everyone else already, but–" Derek sucked in a hard breath. "I wanted to tell you in person." He took Nova's hand. "I—we—the Star Force is leaving."

Derek listened hard, waiting to hear the catch in her breath, the surprised gasp.

"I know," came the even reply. "And I'm coming too."

Derek squeezed her hand. "No!"

Nova's comm charger flickered on, casting a dim glow through the cab.

"I want you here, safe, on Earth," Derek protested.

"But that's not where I need to be," Nova replied, squeezing his hand back. "Every time I think about the woman I saw in that vision, something in me reaches out to her—something I haven't felt since I saw Starsha's message—before we left for Iscandar. I have to go with you—find out what's happening."

"But what about your post—your career?" Derek saw the old fire flicker in her eyes.

"What about it?" Nova asked. "If doing the right thing means giving it up… then I will."

Derek's eyes stung. He looked down at Nova's hand, tucked into his.

"What's wrong?" Nova gripped his hand a little tighter.

He held his breath, a sliver of fear growing in his heart. "Promise me…" he whispered. "You won't put yourself in danger." Images of her lying unconscious in the Argo's med bay burned in his mind. "I can't lose you again."

Nova's eyes misted. "I can't make that promise," she managed as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Derek nodded with a sharp breath and touched her hand to his forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you this time," he whispered. "Your life… means more to me than–" His words tangled before he could finish.

"I know…" Nova whispered as he let go of her hand.

Derek's heart leapt.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Sandor and Orion will have the ship ready at 02:00."

"Let's get back." Nova said. "I'll put my things together."


Commander Singleton logged out of his computer for the night. He closed the laptop and tucked it away. The desk lay empty except for sparse personal trinkets—a picture of his granddaughter, Wendy, and a case displaying medals he earned in his younger years.

He sighed. Everything ached as he stood. Sweat trickled off his balding head and into his eyes.

A quick check of the time made him stifle a yawn, oh-one twenty. His eyes drooped as he thought about the eight-o'clock meeting scheduled in the morning.

Just as he reached the door, in barreled Stone.

"Those stubborn idiots!" the General fumed. "They're protesting the changes to the ship. I knew they wouldn't accept reassignments!"

"Calm down, Thomas," Singleton said, rubbing tired eyes. "Who's protesting?"

"The Star Force," Stone growled.

Singleton froze.

"That insolent pup Wildstar did this—I know it. What are they going to do? Lock themselves in the ship until we give them what they want? Court martial the lot of them!" The General stormed over to Singleton's desk. "Tell everyone on board the Argo to disembark immediately," he ordered the communications post downstairs.

"Yes, sir."

Singleton's head pounded in his ears as he returned to his desk and sank into the chair. He logged in again and checked Argo's dry dock security footage. Just as Stone said, the ship bustled with activity. He crossed his arms and watched, expression neutral as the battleship's power level spiked.

Stone's face grew redder every second.

"Commander Singleton," Derek Wildstar's reply echoed through the office. "General Stone, we have no intention of leaving the Argo. No matter what the council says, these attacks were no coincidence. There's a threat to Earth's safety, and we have to stop it."

Singleton's fingers dug into his arm as he watched Stone's face twist into an outraged snarl.

The General called the night shift again. "Lock them in," he growled. "They're not leaving."


Derek's eyes settled on Mark's empty chair. He pulled out his comm and checked the crew manifest. So far, no Venture.

He sighed and leaned onto his console as he laid his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. His pulse beat a hasty rhythm in his chest. With a concentrated effort, he took long, slow breaths, concentrating on what he had to do.

He wished Mark were here. His friend was the one person he trusted beyond doubt to pilot the Argo. Without him… Derek's mind raced as he tried to cast a replacement navigator.

He shook the muddled thoughts away and sat up, opening his eyes.

"We need you, Venture…" he whispered to the vacant seat next to him. "I can't do this without you."


Mark sat on his bed, staring at his comm. Oh-one-thirty.

The room was quiet except for Jordy's slow breathing. His little brother sprawled across the bed on the other side of the small room, one leg hanging part-way off the mattress, revealing his spaceship print pajamas.

Mark smiled at the boy. Ever since Jordy was old enough to walk, he insisted on following Mark everywhere. The boy's curiosity and untainted passion challenged him, and. he wished he could have that much faith. When he and the rest of the Star Force left for Iscandar, Jordy didn't waver, insisting Mark would be back and that the Star Force would save the world.

Jordy was the Argo's staunchest fan. He loved the TV documentaries, the models, and every story Mark told him. He knew the crew list by heart and recited it to himself occasionally after one of Mark's stories, but the thing he loved most was the engine.

Mark talked Sandor into getting Jordy some pictures and videos of the running engine.

He shook his head at the memory. The boy was only eight when they came back, Cosmo DNA in tow. Jordy would be nine next week.

Mark stared at his blue EDF uniform, hanging on his closet door, pressed and crisp.

He looked back at Jordy, wishing his heart was as strong as his little brother's.

The glint of polished stone caught his attention—Jordy's prized shard of Iscandarium.

Mark pocketed his comm, slipped out of bed and picked up the shard. He sank to the floor, back to Jordy's dresser, staring up at the ceiling. His bare feet stung on the cold floor as the chill air clung to his exposed arms and legs.

He held up the alien stone, peering into its blue-green depths, catching a glimmer of gold twice before letting his hand drop to his lap. Mark clutched the shard and pulled out his comm again. Derek's short message stared at him.

"You don't need my help," he whispered with another glance toward his closet. "Let someone else do it this time."

Mark's chest tightened. He closed his eyes, the funeral on Heroes' Hill blaring in his mind.

The service ended.

Fallen members of the Star Force lay entombed atop the grassy hill overlooking the city.

Mark trailed his family back to their car. His shoulders sagged as he saw each piece of the cobbled walkway. Names stared up at him, engraved in the six-inch stones.

Jordy's hand slipped into Mark's. "I'm glad you're okay, big brother."

"Yeah…" Mark nodded. "Me too…"

"I really like this crystal," Jordy held up the blue-green stone. "What's it called again?"

"Iscandarium," Mark replied. "Queen Starsha gave it to me. She wanted you to have it—so you would always remember the Argo's journey… and…" His eyes welled up with tears as he passed another friend's name. "And how much we sacrificed to save Earth."

Jordy nodded and joined Mark, reading the stones. Half-way down the hill, Jordy asked, "Would you do it again? If Earth was in danger, and needed help one more time, would you go?"

Mark stopped.

Another family passed them, weeping for their fallen daughter. Next came a young woman, fingering the gold band on her left hand as tears streamed down her face.

A boy three or four years younger than Jordy clutched his grandmother's hand. "Where's Momma and Daddy? When are they coming back?"

"They can't come home, sweetie." The old woman stopped and hugged the boy close as she sobbed.

Jordy's eyes fixed on Mark. "I never want you to leave again, but…" He squeezed his brother's big hand. "You're a really great hero, and if everybody needs you…" Jordy motioned for Mark to come down to his eye-level.

Mark knelt.

"Promise me you'll help."

The boy's serious eyes gripped Mark, and he nodded. "I promise."

Mark sucked in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. He read Derek's message again. "02:00."

The Iscandarium glowed in the light of the moon, its colors swirling. Sapphire and emerald split into equal halves for three short seconds.

"You gave up everything too, didn't you, Starsha…?" he whispered. "The price of offering us help was your sister's life, but you did it anyway." He hauled in another breath and pulled himself off the floor, setting the shard back in its place.

His heart skipped as he tossed his comm onto his bed and went straight to his closet. His standard-issue blues stood in his way. He tossed them onto the bed and pulled the door open. From the bottom of the closet, he withdrew a plain gray case.

He laid it on top of his EDF uniform and popped the latch.

His vision blurred as the green and white of the Star Force navigation corps looked up at him. Mark pulled out one of the old uniforms and grabbed the matching boots from the back of his closet. Quietly, he changed and gathered his things.

When he was ready to go, Mark stepped over to Jordy's bedside and brushed the boy's hair out of his eyes. "Bye, little brother," he whispered, tucking a piece of paper under the Iscandarium shard. "I'll see you again soon."

Jordy didn't stir as Mark slipped out.

At the other end of the hall, he could just hear his father's light snore. He stopped at his parents' door and slipped a note under it.

"Don't think too badly of us, Mom, Dad. They'll call us mutineers—traitors. Don't believe any of it."


An alarm blared as the water vents inside the dock locked shut.

"Sandor?!" Derek gritted his teeth, heart pounding.

"Working on it," replied the science officer. "Overriding lock-down."

Derek held his breath. Through the front viewport, his eyes fixed on the nearest vent, twenty feet above the ship, willing it to reopen. "Come on…" he hissed as he leaned forward in his seat, gripping his chair arms so hard, his fingers ached.

The stubborn metal leaves flew open.

"Yes!" Derek pumped a fist in the air as water came pouring into the undersea dock. "Five minutes to launch," he announced after a quick check of the navigation terminal.

A loud clank made Derek's stomach lurch again. "What now…?" he looked over at Sandor.

"Door locks are engaged. The water's getting in, but we won't be able to get out unless we tear through that door," the XO indicated the thick, metal hatch barring their path.

"Get it open," Derek instructed.

Sandor nodded. "Aye, Captain."

A thrill ran through Derek. Captain? He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath as the responsibility of his role settled over him. With gritted teeth, Derek watched the water level rise above the bridge viewport. "What's the status on those doors?"

"Almost there," Sandor replied. "Five seconds."

Derek tapped his armrest, staring into the murky water outside.

"Opening gantry locks," Sandor announced. "Doors will open in three—two—one."

The Argo floated free of her stabilizers.

"Engage the auxiliary engine," Derek ordered, slipping into Mark's chair. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar readouts. He glanced up as the dock door squealed open.

He jumped as a gloved hand settled over his. "I'll take it from here, Wildstar."

Derek grinned. "Mark! I thought you weren't coming."

"Wouldn't miss it," Venture replied, water trailing down his face.

Derek heard the slap of wet soles on the deck as Mark took his station.

"You swim here?" Derek quipped.

"Something like that," Mark gave him a lopsided smirk. "All ahead one-quarter speed."

"All ahead, a quarter speed," Orion echoed from the engineering station.

The Argo eased through the door, out into the warm, Western Pacific.

"Engage the flywheel," Mark said.

"Flywheel is engaged," Orion echoed. "Main engine online and up to seventy percent. Eighty, ninety, one hundred percent."

"Incoming missiles!" Nova announced from the radar post.

"What?!" Derek flew out of his seat, searching the murky water ahead. "Dash, shoot them down."

"Firing to intercept," the gunnery chief replied. "Two missiles down."

The floor shuddered.

"What was that?" Derek asked.

"One missile attached to the hull," Nova replied.

"It didn't go off?" Derek furrowed his brow.

"They're weighted," Sandor said. "Headquarters is trying to ground us before we're air-born. I can dislodge the weights by disrupting their magnetic field with a quick hull charge."

"Do it fast," Derek sat, pulling up the radar data.

"Three dozen projectiles inbound," Nova said.

"On it!" Dash's team shot down all but three weights.

Sandor grunted as the trio fastened to the hull. "They're shielded." He shook his head. "Looking for the frequency now."

Mark coaxed a little more speed from the engine, wincing at his readouts. "We can't do this much longer."

"Twenty more incoming," Nova said.

"Sandor?" Derek glanced over at the science station.

"Almost–There!" Sandor triggered the hull charge.

The Argo shot forward, free of her burden.

The moment the bow broke through the waves, Derek's heart skipped. Night, clear and peaceful, greeted them. Ocean waves splashed against their hull, bidding the Argo and her crew farewell as they soared into the stars' welcoming embrace.


"Captain Gideon." General Stone pressed his comm close to his ear. "Take Andromeda and go after those fools! They've stolen the Argo. Bring it back however you can—shoot it down if necessary."

Commander Singleton leaned back in his chair, stomach churning with guilt.

Stone hung up. "They think they can do whatever they want."

"I'm sure that isn't true," Singleton defended.

"Then what are they doing, Commander? Their claims are ridiculous!" Stone leaned over Singleton's desk, dark eyes swirling with anger.

"They're… doing what they have to," Singleton met Stone's gaze.

"They won't make it past Jupiter," Stone growled. "Gideon will stop them." The General stormed out of the office.

Singleton bowed his head and shut off his computer.

The empty room sat in silence.

He checked the time—02:29. He swallowed hard, wishing he'd tried harder to sway the council—done more to prevent this. Forcing the Star Force into an impossible situation wasn't what he wanted. Peace—quiet—that was all. If he spoke against the council, it could jeopardize his position.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to do nothing.

He pulled open his bottom desk drawer and stared down at the pile of reassignment orders for the Argo's crew. Ever one lay unsent.


Episode 3: Notes

The title for Episode three was taken from Isaiah 7:1-7

"And it came to pass in the days of Ahaz the son of Jotham, the son of Uzziah, king of Judah, that Rezin the king of Syria, and Pekah the son of Remaliah, king of Israel, went up toward Jerusalem to war against it, but could not prevail against it.

And it was told the house of David, saying, Syria is confederate with Ephraim. And his heart was moved, and the heart of his people, as the trees of the wood are moved with the wind.

Then said the LORD unto Isaiah, Go forth now to meet Ahaz, thou, and Shearjashub they son, at the end of the conduit of the upper pool in the highway of the fuller's field;

And say unto him, Take heed, and be quiet; fear not, neither be fainthearted for the two tails of these smoking firebrands, for the fierce anger of Rezin with Syria, and the son of Remaliah.

Because Syria, Ephraim, and the son of Remaliah, have taken evil counsel against thee, saying,

Let us go up against Judah, and vex it, and let us make a breach therein for us, and set a king in the midst of it, even the son of Tabeal:

Thus saith the Lord GOD, It shall not stand, neither shall it come to pass.

Author's Note:

Great to see everyone who came out for Seeker's Prayer last week and, everyone who's here for this week's update.

Next time, we're circling back around to another "Tales" entry, "Flower" featuring Patrick Orion Sr. and his granddaughter Kathleen. It is set to post August 5th.

Until then, happy reading and writing,

*dtill359