A few hours passed until they eventually landed on the shores of Dale. The area around the town itself was peaceful, almost serene. In contrast from the rest of this arctic world, Dale was rocky and green. Fields of grass and peppering of trees spread across rolling hills that seemed to go on forever. The Aviator had never seen anything like it between the dozens of planets he’d been to. The contrast between extreme survival and this oasis struck a unique chord with him. Guided by his escort from the Sheriffs and Hugh following behind, the chained Avian limped through the hills with the chains hugging his torso. His weapons stripped away and all options exhausted, the Aviator assumed the restraints were overkill, or simply a sign of the fear these people felt of his own kind.
As they drew closer to the city of Dale itself, he knew that it was not to be their destination. Small square buildings of simple design with wide wraparound porches, mechanical supports and well-maintained yards sat on the horizon. But on the road between them and the city was a single ship. Its ownership was obvious enough with “Radiant Systems Union: Air Fleet of Rinold” written across the side of the gunship. A large craft with two rotund engines that stuck out from the sides of a central holding like a helicopter. A tail capped by another supportive engine and a blocky front-end that looked like the head of a bear from the side.
Four other ships could be seen from the top of the hill all spread over Dale. Dozens of soldiers well-armed patrolling the town. Normally reserved to the depot or analyzing the surface of the world for things to seek out, now on high alert with the newcomer under arrest.
Out in front of the main ship were three more soldiers, all much better equipped than the Sheriffs who had picked him up on the sea. Two dressed head-to-toe in armor with the third in the middle dressed the same, but his head exposed in exchange for a full helmet. A black bandana covering his head with a big smile, unnaturally happy given the circumstances. The center man came forward, two guns stowed on either hip as he approached the Avian. With his smirk everlasting the man looked over to Roger, “I expected a corpse. I’m glad we brought him back in one piece.”
Roger stood firm as they stopped to meet the captain on the path, “Don’t thank my men, Mr. Lavender did all the hard work,” he confirmed to point over at Hugh.
The Captain looked confused before being overtaken by a small laugh, “Hugh? You’ve done a great job,” he looked right in the Avian’s eyes, inspecting his scarred face, “Aviators are the scourge of our galaxy. I’ve seen your kind rip through hundreds of soldiers in a matter of minutes. And you? They must’ve built a defective one, being taken down by an old man,” he looked back at Hugh, “No offense, sir.” The Captain saluted the veteran, before waving his own men over to come and collect their prisoner.
Hugh stepped forward, “None taken Keeler, but I think you may want this,” he drew the hard drive from it’s place in his pocket, putting it in the hand of this Captain.
Grabbing the chip from him, Marcus seemed confused without context to place the device’s importance, “This was his?”
“It was an enigma to me too sir,” Hugh acknowledged the chip’s dramatic age, “He tried to warn me that it was booby-trapped, but I wouldn’t be so sure. From what I remember those chips are like using a wooden stick to try and hold shut a deadbolt.”
“You’d be right,” Marcus looked back at the craft before returning his gaze to Hugh, “Do you wanna come along with us? I can put you in the front row when this walking tumor gets the final treatment.”
Hugh nodded slowly but enthusiastically. The bloodlust for revenge he felt compelled him forward. Joining Marcus the two made their way to the gunship and boarded right after the Aviator and other soldiers. Soon enough, the door slid closed and they were off in the air. From above, Hugh could see the three Sheriffs on their way back to Dale. The horror of this day was seemingly over and answers felt like they were just around the corner. Looking at the other soldiers in town he was a little worried, “Are we expecting an invasion?” Hugh asked the Captain.
“I know they were just a rumor in your day but back on Wazbax Aviator’s came onto the planet like flies. Where there’s one--there’s a whole squad right behind them. We gotta make sure the whole area is secure. I’ve already requested the Rose Fleet make their way to Rinold just in case.”
Now that was a term Hugh had scarcely heard. The Rose Fleet, named for the main frigate in formation. A special kind of space-faring vessel known as a Rose Bridge, used to cross the galaxy in a matter of minutes.
Sitting in the ship Marcus made sure he was right across from the Aviator as they flew. He took the time they’d be in the air as an opportunity to wash him for answers. He noticed first that the soldier’s arm was grown over, the nub forming a more-healed extremity with fresh skin over the entire break. He looked over to Hugh, “I heard you had blown off his entire arm at the elbow. It looks like he’s had that amputated for years now.”
The sailor shook his own head, “It was a bloody stump a few hours ago. Looks like he might be able to regrow the whole thing.” It was merely a theory but not too far off, clear enough to see as the Avian’s arm had grown two inches from where it had been detached.
A need to correct others grew in the Aviator’s throat, “It’ll be complete by tonight,” the Aviator cut in, answering for both of them.
Marcus looked at him with a smile, “So you’re willing to answer some questions for us then?”
“I’m willing to prove you wrong.”
Dismissing the tone, Marcus whipped up the data chip, “So prove me wrong. Tell me that this doesn’t have vital information on your little creed of super-soldiers?”
The Aviator sat silently. Looking off, reluctant to make eye contact. Not in any display of submission, but an internal trick to keep himself from slipping into boastful conversation.
Marcus smiled to himself, “As I thought. This one is gonna help us turn the tide of the war.”
“It won’t.”
With his smile broken, Marcus looked over at the Aviator, “Why not? What are you leaving out?”
“It’s a map. It has no value to you and it has no value to the Goss,” the Aviator looked at the floor, his head dropped in shame.
Standing in the cabin Marcus looked through a small window in the ship’s door as he saw their base, Harvey Depot, coming up on the horizon, “Well you’ll have plenty of time to tell us everything,” he spoke to his men, the crew getting ready for a landing.
The dockyard itself spanned a total of three miles. A dramatic cut out from the ocean and beach just beside it. The base itself consisted of several large hangars positioned in a type of circle, undoubtedly hosting more gunships like the one the crew now rode on. Miles of rocky hills draped in thick layers of snow surrounded the base, making the approach by air almost a necessity. Towards the center of the dockyard was a slim tower that stood above the rest, a sort of command center for the base.
The craft came lower until it finally connected with the runways that connected each hangar. Extended feet beneath it gently placed the ship down as the crew readied themselves. Marcus was first to hop out, meeting a small squad of soldiers who met them as they landed inside the base. Guards with weapons drawn, ready to fire upon the dangerous Aviator over the smallest infraction.
The prisoner was pulled from the ship next, one of the guards walking him with a tight grip around the Aviator’s remaining arm. A pistol aimed at the back of his chest, “Let’s go,” he was ordered as the company began to march through the cold towards one of the main structures.
Hugh followed up behind them, intent on seeing this through. Hoping that when all was said and done he’d have the opportunity to put a bullet into Anaru’s killer. The base itself sat in one of the harshest climates on the planet. Strong icy winds that never let up. Snow piled up nearly five feet high before solidifying, forcing the troops on the ground to spend hours each day clearing up the paths in and out from the base.
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The main structure was surprisingly non-advanced for the relative size of the planetary colony. At the front the posse was greeted by a manual set of sheet-metal rolling doors. On the inside a small crew operated a series of cells, the building kept at a comfortable temperature by large lamps in every corner of the main room, powered by condensed propane. Towards the center of this large warehouse was a singular steel cube. Nine-foot by nine-foot large, a solid framed cell to host the prisoner brought with the crew.
Escorted into his new home, the Aviator slowly turned around once shoved into his cube, staring at the crew with an intensity in his eyes. The anger and the fury of a caged animal just waiting to scratch at it’s captors. The cube was featureless across the five walls that faced the outside world. A door with a small slit through it around eye-level was all that broke up the rest of the cube from itself. A blank, empty room on the inside where the Aviator was alone with nothing but himself and a cold floor.
Marcus came up to the cell door while looking down through the slot at the prisoner, now taking a spot at the center of the cube, sitting beside himself. The Aviator was placed on the ground with his legs crossed, holding the disfigured arm with his other. He looked up at Marcus through the door. The two locking for a moment before the Captain finally broke the tense silence, “What are you doing so far away from home?”
The Aviator declined to reply, turning where he was and faced the opposite wall.
“Don’t worry. You’ve got time to sulk,” Marcus shut the slot in the door. Turning to the rest of his team he pointed to the lamps that surrounded the cube inside the warehouse, clicking with his tongue, “Now,” he ordered as the men began to cycle them off one after the other. Waving everyone off, Marcus led his men out from the building and into the next, leaving the Aviator to sit alone in the frigid cold.
The next facility made sound with more proper construction. Active lights, a heating engine pumping hot air into the building. It was more of an office or control center with long tables, files and plans strewn out around the place. Much more than any local base would have on hand. Marcus took stock in the middle of the room by a large circular table with a three-dimensional projection of the planet floating just above it. Red beacons all across the globe pulsing on a regular interval.
Coming up behind the Captain, Hugh Lavender looked upon the floating screen. Confused as to why the operation was so much more intricate than he ever got the impression of, he decided to ask outright, “What are you boys doing here? I thought Harvey was established as a reconnaissance base?”
Laying his hands on the table to lean down on it, Marcus scanned a few documents strewn out around the top, “It was yeah. Back when you started here. Two years ago in ‘o-nine, some Aviators landed on Wazbax. In a matter of days the Goss overran us. We barely made it out with the Rose Bridge under our control. They’ve been making a lot of strange strikes out in the Outer Ring. Hitting worlds that shouldn’t be on their radar whatsoever. Aviators descend from the sky and in the process of a week the Goss plant their flag. We think it’s got something to do with that cult, ‘The Absolute’ or whatever it is they’re looking for. But, before Wazbax fell, it was our base of operations for everything on the Outer Ring.” He let out a great breath, “Everyone I knew died on the Waz. Dozens more planets have been glassed at the hands of these bastards. We regrouped here, repurposed the base. Once I heard you found an Aviator out on the ice I was worried they’d caught up to us. But a single, injured Avian on his own out like this, it doesn’t make sense. He’s got no backup, outdated tech and already messed up. It’s all outside their MO.”
Hugh reeled back, ”How do you know it’s alone?”
The Captain looked at the old veteran with a curiosity in his eyes, how Hugh always referred to the Aviator like an object. “What happened with Anaru? Did we collect the body?”
The question pushed Hugh into a near-numb state. Color from the world around him faded away as he could see nothing but the fight they had with the Aviator flash before his eyes. Anaru in the soldier’s arms. The first gunshot. Then the second. Then the altercation which sealed his son’s fate. The Aviator throwing the still-warm body into the frigid ocean below. He looked over at Marcus, “No,” a chill ran down his body before the veteran brought down a fist on the table, “How do you know he’s alone? Are the people of Dale in danger?”
Marcus held up a single palm, trying to calm down his ally, “Because we’ve hunted Aviators. You don’t find one without incurring the wrath of at least one other. This guy is all alone and running on technology outclassed by even the most basic grunts in the Origin’s army. Either it’s a ploy to try and catch us off guard, or he’s gone rogue in some capacity.”
“An Aviator, gone turncoat?”
“Could be,” Marcus pointed up at the globe in front of them. A small green dot appeared just orbiting above the world. It encircled the planet once before crashing down in the northern hemisphere. “We detected this ship four days ago. It just--appeared. Didn’t come from a greater cruiser. No Rose-Bridge. No nothing. It crashed somewhere in the arctic, not too far from where Roger picked you up. Now, either some spaceship pulled itself out of it’s own ass; or it belonged to this Aviator. But how he got here? No idea. If it was his, he’s either got some intense stealth drives, something good enough to get past our long range sensors or he’s got a mini Rose on board that ship.”
“Is that even possible? I thought the Rose-Bridges were so large to begin with because of the power needed to use them?”
“We don’t know. Never found the ship when we looked after it came down. I’m not sure how he ended up in your care but I don’t think he’d come out on a ploy for help if it was functioning. Based on the trajectory we believe he crashed. Now if that’s the case--why? Was he running? And if so, what from?” Marcus held up the data chip, “I think this is exactly what we’ve been looking for.” On the table, Marcus’ hand scavenged for a small device. Grabbing it he flipped the small rectangular service over, revealing a slot for the chip, “Although it is incredibly old, out of date with the rest of our tech. You said they used this kinda stuff in your day?”
“About twenty years ago,” Hugh stared at it, the device was familiar to him. A much more analog reader compared to the complex hologram before them on the table. The device spurred to life, running line after line of text across a small screen as the data from the Aviator stored itself onto the device.
“Well, let’s see what,” Marcus stopped as he looked at the information. He was stunned in a way, it didn’t make much sense to him, “Coordinates. Galactic coordinates. Somewhere in the Inner Ring, close to the center of our galaxy.”
“Where is it?” Hugh looked over Marcus’ shoulder, trying to read the tablet himself.
The device ran through several lines of code before it finally landed on a final display. ‘0. 0. 0. 527.’ Marcus shot a glance at Hugh as they both understood the line immediately. It was the Sol System. The birthplace of humanity. More specifically they spelled out the location for Earth, zero-zero. The final digit capping off the string was even further defined, but neither could identify the specific point on the Blue Marble without a map of their celestial home.
Why such an advanced soldier was going around with outdated, technically archaic technology that did nothing but point towards Earth, the hardest planet in the Galaxy to ever lose sight of, kept rebounding through Hugh’s head. There were so many unknowns and he failed to grasp even the questions he would want answered. They didn’t come to any conclusions, ‘Did I let that killer live for nothing?” he thought. Anaru’s murder felt so less personal, seeing that this soldier dropped from the sky on some sort of mission he’d never accomplish. Hugh couldn’t take it. As one sat on the table, he grabbed a pistol firmly and turned to leave. Marcus was focused on trying to look up the coordinates, not realizing his ally’s movement for a couple seconds more.
“Lavender? What’re you doing?” He was blatantly confused at first, his brows raised until he clocked the gun, “Hugh?” his voice began to sound more worried, “Stop him!” He ordered the guards at the door, two armored men who stood in front of the exit and blocked the veteran from leaving.
“Let me pass,” Hugh tried to order them. The guards simply refused. They were not aggressive, understanding of his plight, but they stood firm regardless.
“Hugh,” Marcus began to walk up behind him, “I know how you feel,” he tried to meet the father on an emotional level, “But we need this guy, he can help us turn around the Aviator threat across dozens of worlds.”
“You don’t know,” Hugh responded quietly as his head dropped. Collapsing in on himself the older man closed his eyes, trying to fight a single tear that came down his face. “Don’t placate me. I lost the love of my soul to the Goss ten years ago. And now-- this machine of war, this thing disguised as a human,” he stifled his own speech, a flurry of anger and sadness flooding the man’s mind, “Murdered. Mutilated my son out there on the ice. And I can’t shoot it dead.”
Slowly nodding in acceptance, the Captain came around to the front of Hugh, grabbing the gun easily from the veteran’s grasp, “Not yet, no. But you must understand. I know they were rumors in your day but on Wazbax we saw dozens of Aviators. They took on entire compounds single handedly, killing hundreds of--” His words were stopped, interrupted by erratic gunfire from outside.
Around a corner and through the inner door a guard came running, “Captain, we have contact,” the soldier said with baited breath.
Everyone in the room froze with realization. The Aviators were here. For their ally, no doubt. Fear crept up quickly but Keeler stood valiantly in the news of their invaders, “Stations people, mobilize the gunships, everything we have!” he ordered, the men around them rushing off to join the impending battle.
“I’m staying here,” Hugh announced, scared to join in on the fighting at his age.
“Understood, just keep your head down,” Marcus pulled out the device with the chip installed, “Hold on to this, will you?” he asked. Hesitantly, Hugh took the device as Keeler followed after his men. He thought about seeking out the Aviator. Something deep inside asked him to kill the prisoner before the invaders had a chance to rescue him.
