“Consider what is the price given for your ransom, and you will never more be slave to any man on earth. This reward and ransom is the Cross. . . . you should impress it on your heart with the love of a fervent faith.”
– St. John Chrysostom, On the Mystery of the Cross
The star cruiser glided slowly through the starry void, its engines humming softly as they glowed a gentle blue. A shimmering wave of cosmic dust scattered slowly through the vacuum of space, tossed out by a centuries' dead star.
The captain paced his quarters, glancing out of the panoramic viewports every now and then. There seemed nothing to hold back the airless vacuum of death. Nothing but a thin sheet of glass – plasma treated, yes, but thin nonetheless. Not even a faint flicker of a reflection gave away the fact that it protected him. The silver hull of the ship seemed to drop away below him as he stood there, a lone eagle perched on a sail-less mast of its master's ship.
The captain sighed. Some might find deep space beautiful; he only saw its loneliness. Its coldness. Its death. A soft beep echoed through the cabin. The captain turned and glanced at the computer console nearby.
It was an alarm, reminding him that in a little under an hour the Lumenara V would rendezvous with the Delta IV. The Delta was a missionary cruiser, under commission from the Order of the Savior’s Ransom, a group which raised money to save those unfortunate souls caught in slavery throughout the galaxy of Andromeda, and, when necessary, fought for their freedom.
It was Captain Marc Hesslin's orders to rendezvous with the Delta so that the rescued prisoners might be transported to their respective homeworlds. Marc gazed out at the stars again and felt another chill run through him. The only respite from this coldness was the act of mercy which he was performing. Such work saved his embittered soul from sinking into its despair again. It kept his restless heart busy, and crowded out unwanted thoughts.
He sighed and activated the comlink. “Lieutenant Briggs, how long until we dock with the Delta IV?”
“Approximately 45 minutes and 25 seconds, sir,” Briggs' voice crackled over the intercom. Marc made a mental note to have the engineers correct the transmitter in his cabin.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He signed off. He beat his hands restlessly on the desk for a moment. He needed to busy himself. He strode to the doorway and waved his hand over the activation sensor. The door slid soundlessly open and he exited.
Making his way through the brightly lit corridors, Marc had to marvel once again at the artificial sunlight which beamed through every other window. How confusing it was, though, to pass one sunlit window only to pass another filled with the all-too real view of deep space! Marc shook his head. The last ship he had commandeered had been much simpler and much more realistic. However, he was almost grateful for this attempt to cheer up the chill of space voyage. It would never help as much as the indoor common area, which boasted beautiful gardens with an intricate irrigation system, a grand library, stores, cafes, and even a playground for little ones.
Marc glanced over the balustrade. The entire center of the ship was hollow like one of those old-fashioned hotels people used to stay in, Marc remembered. With concentric rings which made up the various floors of the ship, it offered everyone a refreshing view of something other than space and false sunlight.
Far below he could see several of his commanding officers enjoying their morning coffee and even a doughnut which came close to those from bakeries back home. Marc found himself smiling as his eyes followed the officers' children, who ran about playing hide-and-seek in the garden bushes and splashing in the many fountains, shrieking with laughter all the while.
Oh, for the days when he could be so carefree! But they were over, Marc reminded himself, and nothing could bring them back. His only joy now would be to ensure that such days could continue for those in his care.
Feeling refreshed, Marc continued on and came to the elevator. He found the efficient young computer engineer, Samantha Anselle, waiting as well, busily tapping away on her tablet. She glanced up and hastily saluted him, nearly dropping her tech-bag.
“At ease!” the captain said, smiling. “Did I startle you, Ms. Anselle?”
“Just a little, sir,” she admitted.
“How's the work on the new cooling system coming?”
“To be truthful, sir, we're having some trouble with the liquid coolant. It keeps freezing into a solid block. Which means it doesn't help cool anything, because it won't pass through the system.”
Marc gave her such a confused look that Samantha couldn't help but laugh.
“If you care to come down later, sir, I'll show it to you if we haven't fixed it yet.”
Marc figured that that was a good idea. There was a soft whir as the hydraulic elevator reached the floor. They both stepped on.
“Floor?” asked Marc.
“Tech Center,” Samantha replied.
The Tech Center on Level 0 held all the ship's computer servers, engines, heating and cooling systems, and electrical equipment.
“I guess that was obvious,” Marc remarked. He ordered the computer to stop the elevator at Levels 5 and 0.
The hydraulics whirred softly for a moment, and then the elevator descended swiftly and smoothly, flashing past floor after floor. There was a gentle bump, a moment's pause, and the doors slid open to show the plaza full of laughing, chattering officers and their families. The scent of fresh baked goods wafted over the sounds of the dancing fountains.
Marc took in a deep breath, smiling as he looked out. This was where he felt best – and yet at his worst because he alone was alone. He stepped out, bidding good day to Samantha, who stepped to the edge of the elevator. Stopping the door by laying her hand upon it, she looked out with a wondering smile. She sighed softly.
“I don't get to spend much time up here,” she breathed. “It's so . . . homey. Cheerful. No whirring of the engines, panicky coolants, fused wires . . . no burning heat from the energy cells. And there's that sunlight–”
She tipped back her head to look at the domed ceiling of the ship, high above. Clouds softly waved across an azure sky, and a fan-generated breeze gently blew through the terraced gardens.
“This has to be the most wonderful ship in the fleet,” she murmured. “. . . Except for the Tech Center.” She made a face. “At least I know how to function there. Up here . . . it's awkward. Like I'm a spider out of it’s web.”
She sighed again and stepped back into the elevator.
Marc was staring at her.
“Wait.” He stopped the door. “You said you hardly get to be up here?”
Samantha looked at him, nonplussed.
“Oh, it's normal,” she explained. “That's how it works. I'm an engineer-on-call. I'm not allowed to leave the Tech Center unless called for. I had to fix a computer for Major Haynes; otherwise I'd have spent all day down there.”
Marc's eyebrows arched. His expression as he pictured spending a day in the white-walled halls and corridors of the Tech Center, packed with noisy computers, whirring hydraulics, and flickering lights, must have been amusing. Samantha laughed and assured him that the situation was quite alright. She bid him good day again.
“Wait!” he insisted. He leaned into the elevator, ignoring the incessant calling for the elevator from Level 19. He opened the comlink.
“Hesslin to IT.”
After a brief silence, Chief Engineer Truitt Yarborough answered.
“Truitt here, Captain.”
“Truitt, can the computer emergencies be managed without Ms. Anselle today?”
“Well, I suppose so, Sir. Young Konstan can take her place.”
“Thank you, Truitt. Out.”
Turning, Marc found Samantha staring at him with huge emerald eyes. He shrugged.
“What?”
“You . . . asked for me to take off. I've never had a day off, sir.” She studied his face with wondering, grateful eyes. “Thank you!”
Marc smiled, just relieved to have taken his mind off himself.
“That's quite alright, Ms. Anselle. I'll show you around.”
“Thank you, sir,” Samantha said respectfully. She demurely glanced up at the insistently flashing call light placed above the elevator's control panel. “I think we should let the callers on Level 19 have their elevator,” she suggested.
Marc motioned for the computer to disregard the order for Level 0 and the pair stepped off. They watched the elevator zoom up to meet the anxiously waiting would-be passengers. Samantha looked around. The green of the gardens, the crystal water of the fountains, the golden light from above, the happy children and loving parents – her eyes closed as the breeze kissed her face.
“It reminds me of home,” she breathed. She opened her eyes. “Back on Almedra . . . before the meteor struck.”
A tremor and a shadow passed over her face. Soon the customary light returned to her eyes as she steadied herself.
“That was a terrible time. I'm grateful to be here, even if it means that I'm stuck in a Tech Center ninety-nine percent of my life.”
She glanced at Marc, who was watching her with a grave respect.
“It's why I look forward to every rendezvous with a mission ship like the Delta IV,” she said. “The Triad IX rescued my people. The Almedrans used to be a favorite target of the slave trade; consequently, there's always a ship of the Order on patrol in our system. Most of us died with the planet, but those who were left found new lives, new homes, new jobs, and hopeful futures because of the Order of the Savior's Ransom.” She turned to look again over the plaza.
“Because of them we have a chance to help others. Without them . . .” she looked at Marc. “My people would have been destroyed, just as many others have been through natural and unnatural disasters, like slavery.”
Marc murmured a quiet note of sympathy. His mind flashed briefly to his own past with the Order, but he blocked it. There was no need to reflect upon what he had already lived, he told himself. Every fiber of his being already knew what he had been through.
“How long until the rendezvous?” Samantha asked, turning to him. Marc glanced at his watch.
“Thirty minutes, or thereabouts,” he answered. They began to stroll across the plaza, dodging rogue balls that rolled away from the children.
“How old were you when it happened?” Marc glanced at her. “Almedra, I mean.”
“I was eight years old,” Samantha admitted. “I was the youngest in my family. I remember being terrified -”
Her gaze wandered about the plaza as if she could see the flaming meteors once more.
“It was glowing red and orange everywhere I looked . . . there was so much pain . . . screams and weeping. If the Triad IX hadn't been in the system, we all would have perished.”
“And after?” Marc prompted her.
“Afterward my family and I were taken to Danya, in the system of A'cile. My father found work as a jeweler, but my grandparents needed to be supported as well. I started working in a tech shop and eventually made my way to the Academy of Engineering. And from there,” she shrugged, “to here.” She looked askance at him.
“And you, Captain? If you don't mind my asking.”
Marc felt every muscle in his body grow taut. He exhaled. “I'm sorry, Ms. Anselle. I don't like to speak of my past. I'm still attempting to process it. There are only a few who know what happened with me.” He felt it necessary to apologize. “I'm sorry. It's not fair for me to ask about your difficult past and then not explain my own. Perhaps someday I can right that.” He met her gaze and found it to be sympathetic.
“No,” Samantha said quietly. “There's nothing to right, Captain. I told you freely of my past, and I would never ask anyone to tell me of their own if it were not told with a similar freedom. If it hurts you, I do not ask it of you.” Marc smiled gratefully at her. At that moment there was a soft musical ding over the ship's communications systems.
“Twenty-five minutes to rendezvous with Delta IV, twenty-five minutes to rendezvous. Captain to bridge, please, Captain to bridge.”
Marc looked up. “Well, there goes our tour,” he said regretfully. “Perhaps another time, Ms. Anselle.”
“That's alright, sir,” Samantha quickly replied. “If you don't mind, sir, since it's my day off . . . I'd like to be on hand when we dock with Delta IV. Just in case there's anything that needs doing.” Marc gladly gave her his permission.
“Back to the elevators!” Samantha laughed, and they boarded again. It zipped swiftly up to Level 21.
The doors slid open upon the bridge, with its sophisticated computers, softly blinking lights in starlit hues, silver plating, and the huge panoramic windows revealing thousands of stars and solar systems. Samantha caught her breath and gazed out into the expanse.
“It's been a long time since I saw so many stars,” she whispered. She navigated her way around Hulls, the ship's weapons officer, Vidara the communications officer, and Lieutenant Commander Briggs. She stood before the window, gazing out with delight as Delta IV came slowly into view.
Just a silvery glistening dot with a faint tinge of blue, the ship came on steadily until they could see the yellow tinge of the windows on its many decks, and even the command center. It was a large ship, capable of carrying several thousands of passengers.
“Isn't she a beautiful ship?” Samantha breathed. Marc was standing beside her. He gave her a sideways look.
“Haven't you seen our ship from the outside?” The young woman smiled in amusement.
“Only a few times, sir.”
“I should have known.” Shaking his head, Marc took his seat as the Delta IV hailed them.
“This is Captain Aldo Berron of Delta IV. Lumenara V, we have you in sight.”
Marc answered the hail. “This is Captain Marc Hesslin of Lumenara V. Delta IV, it's a joy to see you!”
“Thank you, Lumenara; estimated docking time will be in approximately seventeen minutes.”
“Begin docking procedures,” Marc ordered his crew. He turned back to watch the approaching ship. “Delta IV, you've no idea how glad I am to see you!” he murmured.
Captain Aldo Berron turned to his aide, Senior Officer Anthony McGuirk. “Captain Marc Hesslin! Not the Marc Hesslin of the Battle of Maltara?”
McGuirk nodded. “The same, sir. If not for him, slave traders would have captured and destroyed every people in the entire twenty-three-planet system. He doesn't care to be known as a war hero, though.”
“But I heard that he disappeared fifteen years ago!”
“He did sir; but two years ago, he was found adrift in the time-warp fields of Borania. Apparently, his ship had been attacked in one time or another.”
Berron frowned. “Any idea what happened to him during those thirteen years?”
“He didn't have good luck, sir . . . according to rumor he married the most beautiful woman in the constellation of Cygnus, a Cythian, and had a child. It seems something happened to both mother and child, and he went searching for them. But it's also quite possible that he was simply lost in time warp. Records state that he won't speak of those thirteen years, sir.”
Berron turned back to the viewports. “Marc Hesslin, savior of a solar system . . . what has life done to you?” he muttered.
Read the next chapter.
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Ransom: Shadow of an Empire - Book I: Cross of Secrets - I